Dawn of the Valkyrie
by QueenMilaAshdown
Summary: When they're the last two left with the Realms collapsing around them, Loki uses dangerous magic to send Evelyn back to the beginning to do it all over again. The Soul Magic has unexpected side effects, though. Evelyn blames it on her damned Potter Luck. With far more allies that originally expected, she and Loki set out to stop the end of the Nine Realms before it even starts.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: In honor of Avengers: Endgame coming out next week, I thought I'd finally get around to posting my Harry Potter/Avengers fanfic that's my version of the 'fix-it' fic! Please enjoy! Also, let's all not spoil Endgame for people who can't see it opening weekend! Everyone deserves the chance to enjoy the full effect without spoilers! Also, this fic will be cross posted on A03 under the same penname!

4/27 Edit: Changed the last two Realms from Midgard and Helheim to Midgard and Niflheim

**Chapter 1: On the Usage of Soul Magic**

In a cupboard underneath a set of stairs in Little Whinging, Surrey, England, there lies a small ten-year-old girl fast asleep. This little girl is no ordinary girl, however. Evelyn Rosalie Potter has no idea that as she sleeps, the balance of the world is hanging by a thread; waiting for a choice she's about to make.

As it is, Evelyn knows she has to be dreaming when she finds herself inside a golden castle she's never seen before. Sticking her head out of a nearby window has her gawking at how many different towers are rising toward the sky. However, after getting over her shock, she realizes there isn't a soul to be found. Her little dream world seems entirely void of anyone else, which is odd. She thinks that, given the sheer size of the place, _someone_ should be around, but apparently not. She wanders the halls, trying to make sense of what's happening. It's not the weirdest dream she's ever had, that still belongs to the flying motorcycle one, but she still has no idea where her mind got all this from.

It isn't until she discovers the library that she finally finds someone. A woman with braided red hair is lazily browsing through the books. For all the pomp and whatnot of this bizarre dream world, she's dressed rather casually. Pale blue denim trousers, what Evelyn thinks are black boots peeking out under from under the worn hems of said trousers, and a dark grey jacket over a possibly dark green shirt. She can only catch a glimpse of a collar, so she's not certain. The only thing on the woman that seems to fit in with the dream world are the gold metal braces on her wrists and ankles. As she turns to face her, Evelyn inhales sharply at the sight of emerald green eyes—_her_ emerald green eyes—staring back at her.

"Hello Evelyn," the woman says softly. "Won't you take a seat?"

"Do I know you?" Evelyn asks warily. Aunt Petunia doesn't like her talking to strangers, after all. And even if this is a dream, that doesn't mean Aunt Petunia won't somehow find out that she's disobeyed and punish her regardless. Aunt Petunia's good at that. The punishing bit, at least.

"That is a very complicated question," the woman sighs, absentmindedly blowing her bangs out of her face. Evelyn vaguely remembers doing that too when Aunt Petunia had let her have long hair. Now, it has to stay short or she gets in trouble. "You don't, not at the moment, but you could. On the other hand, you already do."

"That is complicated," Evelyn agrees, her face scrunching up as she tries to make sense of the woman's bizarre statement. Adults tend to do that, she's realized. They say weird things that make them think they sound so important. She really wishes they'd just come out and say whatever it is they want to say. Makes things less complicated that way.

"You'll understand soon enough if you want," she chuckles. "I really would recommend taking a seat, though. This might take a while, given that I only have an inkling of an idea about what I need to do to finish this."

Evelyn blinks. "Finish what?" She drops down into a chair, tired of standing and taking the opportunity to sit when it's not usually offered.

The woman raises an eyebrow, and Evelyn fights off the urge to shrink back. "Given what questions you _aren't_ asking, I'm going to assume you're ten?"

"What's being ten got to do with anything?" Evelyn asks defensively, even though she's already bracing herself for a scolding. No matter how many time Aunt Petunia seems to scold her for talking back, she just can't seem to help herself.

"When you turn eleven, your life changes," the woman states matter-of-fact, settling herself in a chair as well.

"You can't know that!" Evelyn protests, growing bolder with each time the woman doesn't scold her for talking back. It's a dangerous habit to start, but she really doesn't want to stop. And for some odd reason, she feels safe.

A wry smile tugs at the woman's lips. "I've gone by many different names and titles during my life. Those who remained of Asgard called me the Trickster's Wife, seeing as I married the God of Mischief. I was Hela's Avatar here on Midgard, earning me the title Mistress of Death. To the wizarding world I was their Savior, their Chosen One, the Girl-Who-Lived and the Woman-Who-Conquered. My friends and family, though, they knew me as Evelyn Rosalie Potter."

"You're _me_?" Evelyn squeaks. Okay, _now_ she understands why she needed to sit down.

"I'm what you become if events unfold the way they're currently set up to," her future self says flatly, staring intently into the fire, "and the future, while there is much love and happiness, ends with me dying in my husband's arms as the world falls to pieces around us. Being the stubborn bastard that he is, he refused to accept that as our final end, so he gave me all of his power and strength and sent my soul back."

"Why?"

Her own eyes pin her in place, a hardness in them that terrifies her. Those eyes have _seen_ things. "So I could change what's going to happen. If this works, then things will be different this time."

Change things? What things could she possibly want to change? _How_ could she—

"You didn't try to save Mum and Dad," she abruptly whispers, sitting ramrod straight.

"Evelyn—"

She cuts her future self off, too swamped with sudden, indignant anger to just let this go. "You didn't try to save Mum and Dad! Why, why, _why_?! Anyone would've been better than the Dursleys! Even bloody drunks! _They_ probably wouldn't've made me sleep under the stairs!"

"Enough!" The thundered word finally shuts Evelyn up, and she cringes back into her seat as her future self stands and stalks forward towards the fire. The woman's hands are clenched into fists at her side, and, the longer Evelyn watches, the more she realizes the woman is shaking. "I've forgiven a lot of things that Aunt Petunia did, but _that_ is the one thing I never can and likely never will." She turns, fixing Evelyn with a glare. "She lied to you, to us. James and Lily Potter loved us with every fiber of their being, enough to die to keep us safe. That _bitch_ was just jealous because she couldn't have what her sister had."

Evelyn sniffles, scrubbing at the tears rolling stubbornly down her face. "Really?" She looks beseechingly at her future self, desperately hoping and praying that she isn't lying.

"Really," the woman murmurs, her expression softening as she returns to her seat, "and I'm sorry for raising my voice. It's just an excuse, but Mum and Dad are a bit of a tender subject for me." She smiles weakly. "I think you understand at least a little."

Evelyn shrugs half-heartedly, ducking her head to hide a bit. "Just a—" She swallows around a lump in her throat. "Just a bit."

"I'll try to not raise my voice again, but I promise you I won't touch you unless I have your permission," her future self states solemnly. "And there's a reason I didn't try and save Mum and Dad. Your body couldn't've handled the strain if I'd gone back any further. I was sent back with the power of a god in my veins on top of already being a rather powerful witch."

"Magic isn't real," Evelyn parrots without conscious thought. That particular fact has been pretty much beaten into her. Anything that Uncle Vernon's dubbed 'unnatural' just isn't mentioned and therefore isn't real.

"Ah, what I wouldn't give to _murder_ Uncle Vernon," her future self snarls, almost as if she'd heard Evelyn's thoughts. Her teeth are bared, a look of pure loathing twisting her expression into something that, surprisingly, makes Evelyn feel safe. She knows now, with every fiber of her being, that this woman would never hurt her in any way, shape, or form. "Just assume that most everything that the Dursleys have told you is a lie, and to never believe a word out of their mouths again, understand?"

"Sure…?" she returns, not sure what good that'll do for long. It's not like she'll have much a choice once she wakes up.

Her future self drags a hand down her face. "I'm sorry, but our relatives are horrid creatures that deserve to be put behind bars, at least. They'll find no rest in Death, of that I'm certain. Hela wasn't overly thrilled when I mentioned what my childhood was like in passing once."

"You can do that?" Evelyn asks incredulously, a bit baffled at the idea.

"Ah, no, _we_ can't," the woman stresses. "Well, we'll be putting them behind bars, but it'll be legal. The few benefits of being famous." Famous? She's not famous. Famous people don't live under staircases. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon will get to spend the rest of their miserable mortal lives behind bars. After that they're Hela's problem, and seeing as we're her avatar _and_ her father's wife, well, they've no one to blame but themselves on that front. Not to mention she actually _likes_ us."

"Bloody hell, you're talking about Hela of Asgard, aren't you?" Evelyn yelps, it finally connecting who exactly her future self is talking about. "Goddess of Death?"

"I'd forgotten we'd poked at mythology," the woman comments blandly. "Yes, although it's Hela of Helheim, not Asgard."

"_Why_ are you talking about a Goddess of _Death_ liking us?" Evelyn demands near hysterically. "The gods aren't even real! They're just stories!"

"They are very much real, although the vast majority of the stories about them aren't true." Her future self chuckles, a real smile spreading across her lips. "Had a few interesting conversations about those legends."

"My head hurts," Evelyn mutters, scrubbing a hand through her cropped black hair. The mere idea of legends actually being real, on top of magic as well, is a bit too much to wrap her mind around. Even with trusting everything her future self is telling her.

The woman snorts. "We tend to do that to everyone around us. House Potter's Luck is a bit of an arse." Now she sighs, slumping in her seat, and Evelyn can actually see herself in the otherworldly woman finally. Something beyond just shared looks for all that she has black hair and her future self red. She does wonder how that happened. "In any event, I've told you who I am and why I'm here, so I suppose we're to the how."

"The how?" Evelyn repeats, immediately confused. "The how of what?"

"Our current situation," her future self says with a wry smile. "Right now, I'm just a manifestation. I have no body. Your body is well and truly yours, Evelyn, and there's nothing I can do to change that. I'm simply what your soul _could_ become and because of that, we have the ability to merge ourselves. In a sense, we'd be going from _you_ and _I_ to _us_, but only if you wanted to."

"So I can say no?" she asks. For some reason, the thought is far more comforting that she'd expected it to be. Not that she's currently planning to say no, but just the ability to be able to is a comfort she rarely ever has, so she cherishes it.

"Yes, you'd be well within your rights to say no," the woman murmurs, gazing into the flickering flames. "My memories…aren't all pleasant, to put it politely. There are moments I'm not proud of but will stand by my decisions because I believe they were right, even with the brutality that followed. However, there are memories that I…that I love with all my being."

Evelyn swallows around a sudden lump in her throat as something occurs to her. "You…you said you were…um…_married_ to someone?"

A ridiculously dopey smile spreads across her future self's lips. "Our husband, Loki of Asgard, loves us with his entire being."

It takes all of Evelyn's self control to keep her jaw from dropping at _that_ particular little tidbit. Loki? She marries _Loki_? Now that she thinks about it, her future self had dropped a few facts that had hinted at that without outright stating so.

"Of course, we were at odds with one another when we first met," the woman continues regardless of Evelyn's completely blown mind, lips curling up into a smirk the further into her memories of Loki she devils, "and there wasn't a thing either of us could do about it. After we stopped snipping at the other, we discovered we shared many things in common." Her expression abruptly goes solemn. "Unfortunately, included was a rather similar childhood, in a manner of speaking. Both of us grew up constantly second best, for reasons we didn't find out until later in life. For us, it was our magic that made Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon act the way they did. For Loki?" Here her future self sighs. "Not only did he find out he was adopted, but he was a Frost Giant on top of that, the very being Asgardians went to war with centuries ago and their boogeymen in nighttime tales. Merlin was that a storm to weather."

"He loves us, though?" Evelyn whispers almost fearfully but ever hopeful. If there's just _one_ person who loves her, surely that's not too bad of a trade off?

A softer, more content smile is offered to her this time. "When we married, he swore this oath to me. 'I take you, my heart, at the rising of the moon and the setting of the stars. To love and to honor through all that may come. Through all our lives together, in all our lives, may we be reborn that we may meet and know and love again, and remember'."

Evelyn sits in silence, letting it all sink in. Mercifully, her future self doesn't say anything more. The more she thinks about it, the clearer it becomes. There never really is a way she'd say no. Not with what's been offered. The mere _possibility_ of having someone who loves her is just too much to pass up. And even if nothing works out the way her future self seems to be hoping it will, she'll still at least be getting a chance to try. Furthermore, Evelyn Potter's no coward, no matter what Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon or Dudley might think. They haven't broken her yet, and from the looks of it, never will.

Steeling herself both mentally and physically, she meets her future self's steady gaze with one of her own. "Do it."

She's gifted with a blinding smile, and only then does her future self reach out towards her. The instant they clasp hands, something sparks under her skin as a flood of power slams into her. Her magic flares out, wild and chaotic—familiar and warm—while memory after memory tumbles in front of her eyes, desperately seeking something familiar to cling to. Far, far away it finds one such thing. The quickly disintegrating marriage link between her and Loki. She grabs what strength she can and hurls her consciousness down the link before darkness can take her.

* * *

"Do you dream of them often?"

Loki Odinson, second Prince of Asgard, nearly leaps out of his skin when an unknown woman's voice suddenly addresses him in his dreams. He turns away from where he's sitting with a dream version of Sigyn and Hela in the palace gardens, as if his wife hadn't died and his daughter not banished. Neither reacts to the voice. Standing nearby, watching his family with a sadness that makes Loki feel uncomfortable, is a woman with blood red hair and striking emerald green eyes.

"Do I know you?" he inquires warily while getting to his feet. Her clothing looks like nothing he's ever seen before, but the bracers she wears on her wrists and ankles are alarmingly familiar. As is the protective magic practically pouring off them.

"That remains to be seen," she murmurs softly. "My name is Evelyn Rosalie Potter, Loki Odinson, and I am here to ask for your help." She regards him with a solemn gaze. "What do you know of Soul Magic?"

He immediately stiffens and his expression grows stone cold. "I will perform no Soul Magic for you, woman. Nothing good ever comes of it. There's always a consequence you aren't expecting or prepared to pay."

She merely scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I know that, you prat, and I'm not asking you to. Once is enough, thank you." She shudders, grimacing as though in pain. "I can attest to the fact that Soul Magic hurts like a right bitch, and I thought the death spell was painful." She mutters the last part so quietly that he almost missed it.

He narrows his eyes, even more on guard than before. Who exactly is this woman who casually mentions death spells and Soul Magic, two Arts even he's wary about deviling into? "What death spell?"

She shrugs carelessly. "The one that had been slowly eating away at my magic and body for the past week or so on top of me already dealing with a shattered right leg, a broken left wrist, multiple slash wounds to my chest and arms, possible broken or bruised ribs, and a concussion to finish it off." Loki inhales sharply, the fractional widening of his eyes the only other form of his surprise he allows himself to show. "The Convergence happened and, because the alignment of the Realms was thrown out of balance, the worlds descended into chaos. That was merely the end result for myself."

"The Convergence is not to happen for another twenty years yet," he shakily corrects her.

"Hence the Soul Magic," she smiles tiredly. "We were the last two alive after seven years of trying and failing to fix things, and I was dying in your arms. You refused to lose me, much like you had Sigyn, and so we thought to try and do it all over again." She drags a hand down her face, her entire form seeming to curl inward as she drops down to sit in the grass. "I am Hela's Avatar on Misgard, or as the Wizarding World calls it, the Master of Death. The Deathly Hallows answer to me. To top it all off, I am the Heir to House Gryffindor and House Slytherin."

"Why seek me out?" he demands, refusing to kneel in turn. Refusing to acknowledge the churning in his gut that echoes the raw, protective savagery in the magic at her wrists and ankles. He hasn't heard the names Gryffindor or Slytherin in centuries, and now this woman claims to be the heir of both Godric and Salazar. And on top of all that, she's Hela's Avatar, meaning she's collected all of Hel's artifacts on Midgard and won their alliance. She's someone his daughter's acknowledged and probably holds in high esteem.

"Since you're the one who cast the Soul Magic on me, there's a chance you may be able to regain your memories of the years that'll no longer be happening. However, like I told my former current self, there are both good and bad memories. Personally, I like to think that the good outweighs the bad, but that's just my opinion. They will greatly change how you view everyone and everything you currently know, and there'll be no going back should it actually work."

"Then why offer it?"

"You aren't the only one who's possessive of those they consider theirs, Odinson," she smirks slightly, a bit of fire returning to her eyes. "Thor often commented that we brought out both the best and worst in each other. Still, even if you choose not to regain the memories, I have every intention of winning you over again."

Loki looks at her silently, already gathering an idea of how they fit together. It alarms him how much he finds himself wanting it, what with his wife and child still right behind him. How well their magic seems to meld together, even after having just brushed his own up against hers.

"And what, exactly, do you gain by offering me this?"

She absentmindedly blows a loose strand of hair out of her face. "If you say yes, and it actually works, I have someone else who _knows_." She looks up at him, solemn to a degree that sets his teeth on edge. "I have lived through the collapse of seven of the Nine Realms." He just barely manages to catch the strangled noise that wants to escape his throat. Stars, she can't be serious. He doesn't even want to begin to consider what sort of catastrophe would be capable of causing that kind of chain reaction. "Asgard fell four months ago for me, taking Odin and most of the Valkyrie with it. Midgard and Niflheim were the only two remaining when we resorted to Soul Magic."

_Well_, he thinks faintly. That certainly explains why he used it, even disregarding their supposed relationship. "And Mother?" he asks around the lump in his throat.

"She was killed during the Convergence seven years ago."

Nothing could've prepared him for those words. He stumbles back a step, chest heaving as he fights for air. Frigga had been _killed_. His kind, loving mother dead for seven years.

"Loki!"

The only one who never sees him as second best, who never scoffs or sneers over the fact that he'll never be the type of warrior that Thor, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, or even Sif are.

"_Loki!_"

The who encouraged his learning of magic and sciences. Who practically taught him everything he knows about working in the shadows.

"Odinson, _breathe!_"

He reacts automatically, the tone sounding very much used to being obeyed and he's currently in no state of mind to even contemplate disobeying. Sweet air floods his lungs, for all that this is a dream, and his world stops physically spinning. Evelyn is on her feet, a hand reached out like she wants to touch him but she stopped herself just short of doing so.

"_Who?_" he snarls, heart beating out a frantic tempo against his ribs.

"The Dark Elves led by Malekith," she states flatly. "A mortal somehow managed to get the Aether trapped inside their body and Malekith took advantage of the fact that they were brought to Asgard in an attempt to retrieve it."

That can't be right. Loki distinctively remembers Odin telling him and Thor how his father, Bors, had practically destroyed Svartalfheim and the Realm's inhabitants with it.

"The Dark Elves—"

Evelyn cuts him off before he can finish his sentence. "They are very much alive, Odinson, so do not attempt to tell me my information is incorrect. Malekith is so intune with the Aether that he was woken up from wherever he's hibernating just by a mortal's touch. He then proceeded to try and suck out of the light from all the Realms after taking the Aether into his body. We're fairly certain that's where everything started going wrong."

Now it's his turn to drop to the ground. So that's what caused it all. The use of one of the Infinity Stones. Given that it was the Reality Stone, it most certainly would've been capable of tearing the Realms apart.

"Thor?" he makes himself ask while already dreading the answer.

"Fell with Vanaheim making sure as many as possible to get to safety three years ago," she murmurs, kneeling opposite him and looking off into the distance. A single tear rolls down her cheek. "You never admitted it to me, but I know you'd taken a piece of Mjolnir when it broke a year prior." He's unable to help his broken sob. "It became your sole remaining connection to your brother."

He chokes out a "How?"

She answers him without needing any further explanation. "The mortal who found the Aether? Thor had fallen in love with her, despite Odin's disapproval and discouragement. What we didn't know was that the Aether had damaged her body beyond anything either of us could heal, and Asgard was no help. They closed their doors to us for the majority of the collapse. She died in his arms about a year after coming to us. He had lost his mother, was estranged from his father and friends, and only had you as a remaining connection to everything he formerly knew. Jane Foster was the one who started him on the road to true humility, and to lose her as well?" She shrugs helplessly. "We were extremely lucky that Mjolnir took the brunt of the shitstorm that followed."

Silence falls against between them as Loki tries to take in all of what she's told him. There are probably countless more horrors she's not telling him. There's haunted look in her eyes that he doesn't want to press any further than he already has. It might hurt him to go further, but he gets this feeling that it'll break her.

"And you seek to prevent all of this from happening again?"

"Yes," she returns simply. "After dealing with a megalomaniac that's hell bent on my blood, though."

He blinks repeatedly, wondering if he actually heard her correctly. "_What?_"

She smiles sadly at him. "I'd explain, but I'm at my limit." Now that he actually looks at her, Loki realizes that she's starting to faintly glow. "So what say you, Loki Odinson? Do you wish to try your luck with Soul Magic or not?" She holds out a hand.

He looks at it, then at her again. "Do not expect me to simply sit around and wait for you to fix your problems," he warns while reaching out. "I _will_ find you myself if you take too long."

He's rewarded with a surprised look just before their skin touches. Then his world erupts in pain and devastation and heartbreak thirty years in the making. He lurches forward a step and Evelyn catches him, her magic wrapping comfortingly around his own.

"I'll be quick about it," she murmurs into his ear.

"Evelyn—"

She cuts him off with a kiss, and he's helpless to refuse it. He sinks into it, so achingly familiar and wonderfully new. It's sloppy and desperate and biting. They're _alive_. They've got a second chance. He hauls his wife tighter to himself, relishing in the feel of her beating heart against his chest.

"I love you, Odinson," she breathes against his lips, the taste of stardust and frost heavy on his lips, "now _wake up_."


	2. Chapter 2

4/27 Edit: Changed the last two Realms from Midgard and Helheim to Midgard and Niflheim

**Chapter 2: The course of Potter Luck never did run smoothly**

Loki wakes to the feeling of Evelyn's kiss still lingering on his lips. He gasps out a ragged sob, heart pounding from the abrupt wake up call. He can still feel his wife's magic coursing through him, though it's fading quickly. His cheeks are wet and his throat tight.

Then wild and raw and chaotic magic brushes up against his own, startling him upright. That's Soul Magic running amok. He doesn't even know how it's possible, but that's what's happening. He's barely managed to throw his sheets back before the wing of the palace his rooms are located in explodes. Lightning flashes across the now visible night sky, thunder cracking loudly in its wake.

"Thor!" he roars unconsciously, so used to scolding his brother for his flamboyant ways that even three years after his death he still reacts to lightning and the thunder that follows like that. His magic surges to life, honed by too many years of constantly being on edge. Battle shields fall into place as easily as breathing.

Then he blinks and remembers.

His battle brother is dead. The warrior he fought side by side with for three years as an equal is nothing more than a memory now. Thor hasn't been broken down and humbled yet. He still struts around like he hung the stars himself.

Loki presses a hand to trembling lips, allowing himself just a moment of grief to mourn what once was. Of what he desperately wishes he could've held onto for longer. Then he inhales and exhales, collapses his shields, and shoves the feeling down into the depths of his soul. He doesn't have time to dwell on it for too long, lest it never let him go. He has a wife to locate and save. At least, after figuring out why Thor blew up their wing of the palace. He doesn't ever remember him doing that after Odin gave him Mjolnir. If it's just Thor being an idiot, he'll slip away with Asgard none the wiser. He knows he's not ready to stay and face anyone here. Not by himself, not without Evelyn beside him to temper his rage and pain. Of course, she might just do all the yelling herself. She always did have a few choice words to use whenever the topic of Odin came up. He huffs out a laugh at the thought.

It's a simple matter to change his night attire for something more suitable to rummaging through the rubble his brother's produced for who knows why. Sparks still dance through the air, and the smell of ozone and smoking pine increases the closer Loki gets to the center of the explosion. With a hiss, he draws his hand back from a slab of metal that shocks him unexpectedly.

"Was all this truly necessary?" he mutters to himself while shaking out the numbness in his hand. That shock had certainly been stronger than anything his brother could produce before it all started. He stumbles down a particularly steep set of rubble, only to abruptly find himself face to face with a rather pissed off Thor.

"What did you do?" his brother demands, lightning arching up and down his arms. It's very reminiscent of when he'd lost Mjolnir and had to master his abilities without it. Loki's so thrown by the sight that he doesn't even react when Thor reaches out to grab ahold of him. "Loki, what trickery is this? _How am I alive?_"

A sound of surprise tears it's way out of Loki's throat. "You—" He's so unprepared for that question his voice hitches uncomfortably. "Thor?"

"Do not play your games with me, brother," Thor snarls, pressing closer. "_What did_—"

"Thor!"

Loki doesn't even realize he's reacting to the unexpected voice until the screaming hum of his battle shields penetrates the ringing in his ears. Until he raises his hands, glowing a sickly green, only to find himself face to face with someone he hasn't seen or heard or touched or allowed himself to dwell on in seven years. His magic peters out, unable to sustain itself in the wake of his shock.

"Mother?" Thor's voice is as shaky as Loki's limbs feel. It's only because the oaf hasn't actually let go of him that Loki hasn't fallen to his knees yet. Unconsciously he reaches up to latch onto his brother's wrist, needing something to ground himself with. Because of that, he feels Thor shudder. "Loki?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to think coherently while looking at Frigga, and he needs to make sure he's not imagining certain things before trying to deal with her. "What does the name Jane Foster mean to you?"

Thor's grip on him tightens minutely. "She was—" His brother lets out a harsh breath and Loki feels painful hope blossom in his chest. "She showed me what it truly meant to protect someone."

Tears gather and Loki futilely tries to blink them away. It shouldn't even be possible. "You've been dead three years to me, brother," he whispers hoarsely. "Midgard and Niflheim were all that were left." He meets Thor's horror filled gaze with his own broken one. "Evelyn and I, we were the last two. She had been hit with a death spell a week prior when Wakanda fell."

"No," Thor breathes out, his free hand coming up to grip Loki's shoulder.

Loki swallows around the painful lump in his throat. "I used Soul Magic."

"Loki!"

He flinches at Frigga's outburst. "Do not!" he snarls, holding up a hand to warn her from approaching. That's the last thing he needs right now. If she gets close enough to touch, he knows his control will snap, and he's only barely hanging on by a thread as it is. He turns his broken gaze towards her, his teeth bared in a mockery of a sneer. She's taken only a few steps towards him, towards _them_. When their eyes meet, she recoils slightly. He both relishes and despises her doing so. It's what he wants, he tells himself. For her to realize he's not the son she raised anymore. He's not even _her_ son, he thinks painfully. That honor belongs solely to the oaf he still calls brother. His eyes dart momentarily to the smoking doorway where Odin stands looking on expressionlessly. The sight raises his hackles even more.

"Brother," Thor murmurs, squeezing his shoulder in both warning and support.

"I can't—" Loki gasps out a sob while taking a step back. "I have to—"

"You will be going nowhere, Father."

Loki whirls around so fast he nearly falls over in his haste. Sitting atop the rubble he'd stumbled down just minutes earlier is his precious daughter, Hela. She's just as he remembers. Half living, half skeletal. Her living half is still a perfect mix of him and Sigyn. His laughing green eye and Sigyn's harvest wheat golden hair that fades to a ghostly white on her opposite side. Her skeletal half, he knows now, is like a mockery of his Jotun heritage. A burning red eye regards him solemnly, pale blue skin pulled taunt haphazardly across exposed bone.

"Hela?" He hasn't seen her since she dropped Evelyn into his cell all those years ago after the attack on New York. "What are—"

"Stopping you from making a mistake," she returns blandly. "You need to stay on Asgard for now."

He falters slightly, her instructions unexpected. "What?"

"You need to stay here, Father. There's nothing you can do on Midgard for my Avatar at the moment. She has tasks to complete on her own before you two are reunited," Hela explains, lazily picking at the underside of her fingernails on her living hand with a dagger held between bony fingers. "Once she's concluded with them, she will make her way to Asgard with all due haste."

He inhales sharply, realizing what she's asking him to do and to _not_ do. "You cannot expect me to just stay away from her!"

"You can and you will," Hela counters, fixing him with a glare and pointing her dagger at him. "Your presence would be more of a hindrance than a help. She is capable of taking care of herself. You _did_ teach her yourself, after all."

"There is a murderer out for her blood!"

His daughter immediately waves away his argument. "Tom Marvolo Riddle is nothing more that a wraith at the moment, bound to his host body. As she is now, my Avatar would have little hardship sending their souls to me."

A growl builds up in his chest and he does nothing to try and stop it. "And is that what she must do before you allow us to see each other again?"

"No," she retorts flatly. "Goddess of Death I might be, I am not cruel. For all her courage, that is not something I will make her face alone."

"The man who murdered her parents, he's alive again?" Thor abruptly demands, stepping forward so he's shoulder to shoulder with Loki. "I thought she'd sent all the pieces of his soul to your Realm, niece."

Hela dips her head in acknowledgement. "She had, and she will again with better help this time. However, Father in his desperation sent my Avatar's soul back thirty years. Tom Marvolo Riddle has not yet risen to power again. She herself is just shy of her eleventh year."

Loki chokes on air, not having realized that that might've happened. He'd been so desperate to give them some form of second chance that he hadn't even bothered to consider that Evelyn didn't have his numerous years at her back. "I could've killed her," he whimpers, slumping against Thor.

"No, Father, that I can assure you never was a possibility," Hela soothes. "The soul you sent back had mastered the Deathly Hallows, so I was able to stop before it when too far."

"And you couldn't have stopped it sooner?" Thor asks, a protective arm curling around Loki's shoulders. He doesn't have the heart to shrug it off.

Hela smiles wryly. "As I said, Father was desperate. He powered the spell with his very soul having nothing left to lose. It was simply because she was already my Avatar that I was able to halt her soul at all. Death might be beyond time, but there are still limitations on what I am able to do."

"Hence why you now have us."

Out of the shadows steps a woman. She wears black leather with silver armor and a winged helmet that's strangely reminiscent of the ones the Valkyrie wear. Golden eyes gleam brightly in the nighttime gloom. However, it's the midnight feathered wings that hold Loki's attention the longest. All those of the Valkyrie have white feathers. There's never been another color.

"You've finished, then?" Hela inquires.

A self-satisfied smirk graces the unknown woman's lips. "I put the fear of death into their dull minds. They'll not touch her should she ever desire to return."

Hela's returning grin is more of a dangerous baring of teeth, much like Loki had done earlier. Only hers isn't broken. It's full of righteous fury and a familiar maniac glee that earned Loki the title of God of Mischief centuries prior. "Well done."

The woman bows to Hela, offering her a pulsing blood red stone. "The first piece, milady."

Hela delicately takes it out of the woman's hand. Loki can't help the shiver that slides down his spine when an agonized scream echoes from it. "Very well done indeed." She gets to her feet and daintily makes her way down the rubble. "Unfortunately, this is where I must leave you. Uncle, please look after Father for me until my Avatar arrives." She stretches up onto the tips of her toes to kiss Thor's cheek.

Thor in turn wraps her up in a crushing hug. "I would do so even without being asked."

Hela draws back to gift him with a dazzling smile. "I do so like what your Jane Foster wrought. You will be a better king because of her."

Thor smiles back sadly. "I hope to be."

"You will be." His daughter nods decisively before turning to him. She doesn't even bother waiting for permission, simply throwing her arms around him. "Father, be strong," she whispers into his ear. "She is coming." He just holds her tightly, unwilling to say anything himself lest it come out horribly emotional. He presses a desperate kiss into her hair before letting her go. She continues on past him towards where Frigga and Odin still wait. He's a little surprised they didn't try to say anything while Hela was talking. A wounded noise escapes him when Hela calls Frigga, "Grandmother."

"Brother," Thor murmurs, taking a step towards him only to stop when Loki flinches.

"I am the reason she was _killed_," he hisses out through clenched teeth. It's one of the few things Evelyn's never been able to convince him otherwise on. He knows with utter certainty that, because he _told_ that wretched Dark Elf how to get out of the dungeons and to Jane Foster, Frigga died. There will never be any way for Evelyn to change his mind. He is the reason the woman who raised him and loved him in spite of himself was killed, and he will carry that knowledge with him until he dies.

"And yet here we are, all alive again," Thor counters. "Is that not enough for now?"

He laughs brokenly, thoroughly amused at how stupidly naive Thor still can be even after all that's happened. "I am still the monster parents tell their children about at night."

"No, you are my son." The fierceness in Frigga's voice causes Loki to freeze in place, allowing her to wrap him up in a hug. "Whatever you have done, you always have been and always will be my son."

And Loki breaks. Great, heaving sobs tear their way out of his throat as he collapses, dragging Frigga down with him. She just holds him through all of it, rocking the two of them back and forth. He clings blindly to her, pressing his face into her shoulder while desperately melding their magic together so he can feel the steady tempo of her heartbeat through it. She allows it, crooning softly like she used to whenever he or Thor were upset as a child.

Only once he's calmed somewhat does she speak again.

"You have a story to tell, but it can wait until morning," she says, smoothing a hand over his hair. "For now, you and Thor will join Odin and I to sleep. When morning dawns, then you will tell me what drove you to use Soul Magic and what you meant by Midgard and Helheim being the last two Realms left."

And Loki, so utterly exhausted, doesn't protest.

* * *

Evelyn wakes to the sound of screaming.

High-pitched, irritating screaming that echoes around in her head and makes her want to drop a building on whoever's making the noise, if only to shut them up. Then she remembers her dream and abruptly sits up, only to gawk at the scene in front of her. She's back in the cupboard under the stairs. That much she'd expected. However, the sight of most of the stairs blown to smithereens above her, not so much.

"What did you _do?!_"

Ah, the lovely tones of Aunt Petunia shrieking her head off about something. Probably the destroyed staircase, now that Evelyn thinks about it. She does wonder how exactly that happened, because she can't remember ever doing that before.

"Answer me!"

Tipping her head back, Evelyn looks up to see her aunt hanging over what's left of the banister, red in the face, and pointing an accusing finger at _her_. Uncle Vernon looks like he's gearing up to give her a sound thrashing, if only he can find his voice. He's turning that lovely shade of purple that only Evelyn is capable of bringing out in him.

Dudley, however.

Dudley is looking at her with wide, far too knowing eyes for a ten-year-old boy.

"Eve?" he whispers hesitantly in the din his mother's producing. No 'Evie'. No mocking tone. No terror over the fact that she somehow managed to blow up the stairs. No, he's reacting like her Dudley from after the war, once they'd reconnected and he stopped communicating with his parents.

"You've got to be kidding me," she retorts flatly, twisting so she can stop craning her neck. Of course she managed to screw something up. Damn Potter Luck. She only hopes that nothing goes too terribly wrong on Loki's end. He creates enough chaos all on his own, he doesn't need her bizarre luck to help him at all.

"What did you _do?_" Dudley hisses at the same time his mother shrieks the question again.

"Oh will you shut up?" Evelyn gripes, shooting a heated glare at Petunia. "It's not like you'll believe anything I say, not to mention you don't want any talk of _freakishness_, so why the hell should I answer you?"

She is viscously pleased when Petunia is so surprised that she just shuts her mouth. Unfortunately, this makes Vernon find his voice.

"Girl! You will not—!" Vernon sputters, unable to finish his sentence.

"I won't what? Talk back?" Evelyn taunts, a smirk reminiscent of her husband gracing her lips. "I'd really like to see you try and stop me."

"_Eve!_" Dudley protests, only to yelp when his mother looks at him in shocked horror.

"Diddykins?"

Evelyn's unable to stop her gagging noise at the nickname, not having heard it for over twenty years. "Merlin and Morgana, I'd forgotten about those," she mutters, shuddering slightly.

"Don't you go mentioning that freakish nonsense in this house!" Vernon roars. "When I get down there I'll—!"

"You will do nothing, Vernon Dursley," a new, female voice interrupts.

Evelyn whips around so fast she nearly falls off the cot she's still sitting on. Wood chips go flying in her wake, and she sneezes from the amount of dust she stirs up.

Standing at where the base of the stairs used to be is a woman. She's dressed in silver Asgardian armor over black leathers, a winged helmet sitting atop raven black braided hair. It's probably either her glowing golden eyes or the black feathered wings that have Petunia screaming this time.

"You're from Asgard," she says rather dumbly, not having expected anyone this quickly. Even with how clever Loki is, even he couldn't've managed this in so little time. Of course, that's also her assuming they remembered at the same time. There's no telling how screwy things get when Potter Luck comes into play.

"Helheim, actually," the woman corrects her. "Lady Hela sends her greetings."

Evelyn frowns. "Did she also offer an apology for dumping me into an Asgardian prison cell for a year and a half?"

"No, you'll have to take that up with her when you see her next."

"I don't exactly plan on dying anytime soon, thanks," she throws back indignantly.

The woman cocks her head to the side, and the sight strangely reminds Evelyn of her husband. "Are you not Lady Hela's Avatar? Did you not unite the Hallows under your command?"

Evelyn squints suspiciously, wondering how the woman knows that. "I haven't yet, given that I'm only ten years old at the moment. That doesn't happen until I'm nearly eighteen. And what, exactly, does that have to do with me not dying but still able to see Hela again?"

"Your body might be young again, but your soul remembers." A pulse of magic ripples through the air, tingling under Evelyn's skin. "Death is beyond time. As far as the magicks surrounding the artifacts are concerned, you've already mastered them and thus they answer to you. With them, you are able to summon Lady Hela and she is able to summon you."

Well, that explains how she got pulled out of Potter Manor without any of the magical defenses trying to blow Hela to kingdom come. That would've been nicer to know _before_ it happened. Still, what's done is done, and she won't get anywhere griping about it, so she shelves her irritation until she sees Hela again.

"Right, fine, whatever." Evelyn scrubs a hand over her face only to sneeze again because her hand's still covered in dust. "If Asgard didn't send you, what are you even doing here?" Golden eyes flicker towards where the Dursleys are still stuck upstairs. Evelyn realizes they've been suspiciously quiet. She turns to see Petunia frozen mid scream and Vernon stuck with his mouth twisted into a rather impressive snarl. "You did something," she states, glancing back at the woman.

A self-satisfied smirk graces the woman's lips. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"The fact that they're frozen by some magical means, and the Ministry isn't breathing down our necks," Evelyn points out dryly.

The woman chuckles softly. "The benefits of being taught magic by some of the greatest of the Nine Realms. Shielding the house from your Ministry's detection for a brief period of time is a simple matter."

"Handy, that."

"Indeed. Now, I am here for two reasons. Firstly." Evelyn tries not to gawk, but the sight of the woman walking up air like the stairs are still there is kind of cool looking. "Vernon Gerard Dursley, Petunia Harriet Dursley nee Evans." Now Evelyn shivers, the woman's voice echoing and stirring up dust with the amount of power she suddenly brings down onto her Aunt and Uncle. "This will be your only warning. You will not threaten Evelyn Rosalie Potter. You will not touch Evelyn Rosalie Potter. Should you disobey, your deaths will be swift and unforgiving. Evelyn Rosalie Potter is the beloved of milady Hela's father. Believe me when I say that we _will_ know if you disobey."

"You really didn't have to do that," Evelyn protests faintly. "I wasn't planning on sticking around long anyways." If she can just get to Diagon Alley, she has the money in her trust vault to last her until she heads to Asgard.

"Perhaps," the woman murmurs. "However, I have waited a _very_ long time to be able to say that." Her wings flare, magic crackling in the air as she bares her teeth in a sneer that would make both Loki and Snape proud. "Do not test me, mortals, unless you wish to experience death as the worst of your kind do." Threatening apparently done, she drops gracefully to the ground in front of Evelyn. "Unfortunately, this next bit will not be pleasant for you."

"And what, exactly, do you plan on doing to me?" Evelyn asks warily.

The woman reaches out to rest a finger over where her lightning bolt scar lies. "That bit of soul stuck in your forehead. Lady Hela does not wish for it to trouble you this time as it did your last."

Evelyn abruptly feels sick at the reminder of the Horcrux she carried around for nearly seventeen years. "It's _back?_" she demands, not having considered that this might happen.

"It is, hence why Lady Hela sent me to rid you of it. As I said, though, it will not be pleasant."

Her magic swelling in response to her panic, Evelyn cries, "I don't fucking care! Just get it out of me!" She doesn't want to spend one more minute with it inside her than she has to. Pain is something she'll deal with if it means the Horcrux will be gone.

With a wave of her hand, the woman clears her former cupboard of all its lingering dust. "Lie down," she instructs. "You will be weak for a while after this. Do not attempt any magic until you have sufficiently recovered."

"Eve, what's she talking about?" Dudley suddenly speaks up, not having said anything but also apparently not having been frozen like Evelyn originally thought.

"There is a piece of the soul of the murderer Tom Marvolo Riddle lodged in Evelyn's forehead," the woman answers. "I will be removing it so it will no longer taint her own soul and magic, but your cousin will be very weak afterwards. She will require rest."

"Good luck with that," Evelyn mutters under her breath. The woman glances knowing at her out of the corner of her eye, but doesn't comment.

"Can I—?" Dudley stops short, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he looks at his still frozen parents. Evelyn holds her breath, wondering what exactly is running through her cousin's mind. "She won't get any rest here," he finally says. "Could you take her somewhere safe to rest instead?"

The woman shakes her head. "Nowhere that I am able to take her would be safe to leave her by herself as she recovers."

Dudley sends another searching look in his parents' direction before squaring his shoulders. "And if you took me as well?"

"Dudley," Evelyn breathes, surprised that he offered at all. They did make up, but offering to go with her? She can't imagine Petunia or Vernon would forgive something like that. Of course, they might just say she bewitched him with her freakishness. Their leaps of logic never are the brightest.

"You would likely not be able to return," the woman points out blandly, somehow thinking the same thing.

"I can't just—" Dudley's face twists up as he tries to articulate his reason. "I can't just stay here, knowing Eve's in danger. I was a right prat while we grew up, and I'm not going to be the same fucking arse this go round. If that means leaving, then I'll leave. I've got the rest of summer break to figure something out if it all goes to shit."

"You do House Evans proud, Dudley Vernon Dursley." With a beat of her wings, the woman rises up to the second floor and holds out a hand. "Now, come. There is little time left for me to extract the soul piece, and we will be leaving immediately afterwards." With only minor hesitation, Dudley takes her hand. Asgardian strength comes into play as she easily holds him while dropping soundlessly back down. She sets him down beside Evelyn's cot, and the two immediately take each other's offered hands.

"You don't have to do this," Evelyn whispers fiercely for all that she's holding tightly to him.

Dudley scoffs. "And stay here? You know I cut all contact with them for a reason, Eve. I'm not going to suffer through another seven years of that utter nonsense, not if I can help it."

"Then I'll take you under my protection," Evelyn insists. "I'll be Lady Potter soon."

"Those are things to discuss later," the woman interrupts them. "Evelyn, lie down." This time, Evelyn lists. Once she's settled, the woman reaches over to lay the palm of her hand over the lightning bolt scar. "Brace yourself," she warns before speaking a Word that reverberates through the air and rattles in Evelyn's bones.

Evelyn only has a moment to ponder this, as a fierce, burning pain erupts from her scar. Her back arches up off the cot while it feels like a fire is lit in her veins. She feels her mouth fall open, but she can't hear if she's screaming or not, the pain is so great. It keeps growing and growing and _growing_. In an attempt to just be _done_, she gathers what magic she can and hurls it in the direction of the Horcrux to try and shove it out. Something finally gives. Evelyn gets one glance at the satisfied woman holding a pulsing blood red stone before darkness comes crashing down over her and she knows no more.


	3. Chapter 3

My last post before going to see Avengers: Endgame tonight! Here's to hoping that I survive! See you on the other side!

**Chapter 3: That First Morning on Asgard**

The second time Loki wakes, it's to the feel of his mother's magic wrapped lovingly around him with Thor's sparking magic at his back. For a moment, he thinks he's still sleeping. Still dreaming. Then the tattered remains of his marriage bond to Evelyn tug at his heartstrings, and he remembers the early morning chaos.

_Thor remembered._

Somehow, someway, Thor had regained his memories of the years that never were. Loki has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with his wife's luck. He had thought it odd that he'd been able to feel Soul Magic in the air right after he'd woken up.

"Are you actually awake now, brother?"

Think of the oaf and he shall speak.

"Not particularly," he mutters into his pillow. For the first time in _years_ his instincts aren't screaming at him about danger. If Thor would just _keep quiet_, then Loki thinks he could actually go right back to sleep he's so relaxed. Then a feminine hand slides down his spine, leaving chills in its wake, and Loki's abruptly reminded that his magic is still twined with Frigga's.

"My darling little prince, as much as I'd love for you to be able to sleep as long as you wish, the sun has risen and the morning begun," his mother says gently, repeating the motion.

Loki moves just enough to be able to crack an eye open up at her. She's smiling down at him, no hint of fear or disgust anywhere on her face. She's just as he remembers her. Unable to help himself, he lets his glamor fall and holds his breath. Her hand falters only momentarily.

"So, you know," she murmurs with a look of sad understanding.

"I know," he chokes out.

Frigga hums thoughtfully before leaning down to press her lips to his forehead. "Whatever you have done, you always have been and always will be my son," she says again, and Loki even dares to believe her. It's difficult not to, what with how much he's wrapped up in her magic. "Now, would you care to break your fast with us before we discuss the events of last night?"

"I had all your favorites brought up," Thor adds almost eagerly.

With a grunt, Loki lets his glamor slide back into place as he pushes himself upright. "Who are you and what have you done with my oaf of a brother?" he grumbles halfheartedly. Thor just smiles brightly at him, clapping him on the shoulder and getting out of the bed they're all piled up in. Blinking rapidly, Loki realizes that they're in Frigga and Odin's personal chambers. He vaguely recalls Frigga mentioning something about that last night, but he'd been too exhausted at that point to really notice much of anything. "Father?" he blurts out without meaning to, wondering why he can't see or sense Odin at all.

"Your father is tending to court to ensure we might be uninterrupted," Frigga explains, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. "Yours will not be a short story, I imagine, not if you were driven to use Soul Magic."

Loki flinches, bowing his head in an attempt to hide his tears. The loss of Thor had been devastating, and Banner had followed half a year later from a poison neither he or Evelyn could counter. However, they hadn't started losing hope just yet. No, that hadn't come until Stark and Rogers were cut down a year following Banner's death. Then he'd finally started looking into what could be done if they lost. When Barton and Romanoff fell less than a year after Stark and Rogers, Loki had come to the chilling realization that even if they did end up finally winning, everyone left would be so broken that any sort of victory would be achingly hollow. Evelyn getting hit with a death spell had been his tipping point. There'd been nothing left to lose, so even if his attempt at Soul Magic had failed, at least they went out trying.

"_Loki,_" Thor's voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, and Loki's head snaps up.

Watery green eyes meet solemn blue ones. "Three years," he says hoarsely. "Three years was all it took for them to cut us all down after you died."

"Enough, brother," Thor instructs, reaching out and cradling Loki's face between his hands and wiping away the few tears that start to roll down his cheeks. "You only need tell us once, and that time is not right this minute. Come and eat first."

"I haven't eaten in a week," he comments faintly, letting Thor pull him out of the bed and across the room. He probably shouldn't've said that, but the promise of food for the first time in a while is overpowering. All his energy had been devoted to trying to keep Evelyn alive long enough to find a way to stop the death spell. He scrubs angrily at the tears still lingering in his eyes.

"Then it's just as well I requested your favorites," Thor says mildly. He gently pushes Loki into a chair before immediately preparing a plate that he hands to Loki with a stern expression. "Eat."

Loki does, nibbling on a slice of meat until it wakes up his appetite, and then he's devouring the food on his plate. A goblet is placed at his elbow, and he nearly protests before seeing no wine, only water. He blinks at it, then looks up questioningly at Thor.

"For all that you hoarded any available time your wife had, we did manage to talk occasionally," his brother says, tucking into his own plate.

"And you talked of my drinking habits?" he questions, very aware of Frigga settling opposite the two of them. She makes no comment on what passed between him and Thor mere moments earlier, but Loki can see she's paler for all that she carries her usual pose and grace.

Thor shrugs. "I was trying to learn of the brother I had, rather than the image I had constructed for myself. Anything she was willing to give, I kept. If it taught me something about my new sister as well, all the better."

Loki dips his head in acceptance. They'd both had to relearn the other. Surprisingly, Thor had been sneaky about it. He smiles faintly. Apparently Evelyn had approved, as she'd made no mention of their chats to him, not even after Thor fell. Or perhaps she'd just wanted to spar him the pain of knowing his brother had been trying, only to lose him so abruptly.

As became a habit, Loki lets his magic blanket the three of them to keep assuring himself that they're there. Frigga blinks at the feeling, but Thor just shifts slightly so their shoulders press together. Loki relaxes into the touch, enjoying the way Thor's lightning crackles against his ice in that it lets him know his brother is _alive_.

"Thor," he says suddenly, realizing something from the feel of Thor's magic, "was the explosion last night because you broke Mjolnir again?"

"It might've been," Thor returns blandly, not pausing in his eating. "Why do you wish to know?"

"Your magic doesn't feel bound like it did before."

Thor side-eyes him. "And is that going to be a problem?"

Loki shoots his brother a _look_ that makes most realize he's doubting the intelligence of the recipient. "Only if you plan on bringing down the palace walls every night. I _will_ retaliate if it becomes a habit."

They glare at each other in silence for a few heartbeats before Thor chuckles. "Rest assured, brother, my power is mine to control again."

"That is good to know, my son."

Loki goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound of Odin's voice. He faintly hears the cracking of the plate he's got in a white knuckled grip over the roaring in his ears. Ice floods his veins, chilling his breath without meaning to. His magic bubbles and crackles dangerously under his skin, begging for release.

Then thunder crashes through the ringing silence, and his vision is full of Thor. Thor whose eyes glow pale blue with power while lightning arches into a protective dome around the two of them. Loki gasps in a desperate breath and the air burns down to his lungs. He warms with every inhale and exhale he forces himself to take.

"Nothing will harm you, Loki," Thor rumbles. "Not while I am here."

"Don't go making promises you can't keep," Loki snarls back. They'd all stopped making such promises the longer the destruction lasted. Though none of them meant to, every last one of them broke it.

A wry smile pulls at his brother's lips as the lightning dies away. "Given that I have no desire to be on the receiving end of your wife's temper again, this is one I will keep."

Perhaps _that's_ why Evelyn didn't say anything about her chats with Thor. She's never particularly proud of losing her temper, for all that Loki enjoys watching her go off at someone, so it doesn't surprise him that since he didn't witness it, he hadn't known. Thor, of course, probably was too embarrassed by whatever Evelyn said to him to bring it up himself.

"Loki, you married again?" Frigga asks hesitantly, reminding Loki that for all that he _doesn't_ want to see or deal with Odin, his mother at least deserves the truth. So he inhales deeply, draws up the desired memory, and with his exhale, makes the palace room fade away and turn into the top floor of Stark's tower.

Faintly, strains of _Never Knew I Needed_ by Ne-Yo can be heard playing in the background—and Loki only remembers that tidbit of information because she played it for _this_—but the bulk of the memory focuses on him whirling Evelyn around the makeshift dance floor the team had provided once Evelyn put her plan into action. He's dressed as a Prince of Asgard should be on their wedding day—something Evelyn insisted he and Thor do, sans helmets—however, in his opinion at least, Evelyn still manages to surpass them both for all that she lacks gleaming armor.

Her stunning red curls are braided back, baring the majority of her neck as she throws her head back while laughing. Her dress is a traditional white for her culture, but she'd added in green and gold accents to honor _him_. A single gold woven strap stretching from shoulder to shoulder holds the dress up, and two gold bands keep the slit sleeves in place. One is mid upper arm and the other at her wrists. The bodice is a deep green velvet lined with gold designs. Around her slim, lithe waist is a gold cord that falls nearly to her feet, emeralds braided in that flash in the light every time he twirls her.

He's got a ridiculously sappy grin plastered across his face, but even now he can't find it in himself to care. Evelyn had planned the entire thing, coordinating with everyone to surprise him. She'd saved asking for Thor's help last, and in full view of everyone. After flat out announcing that she intended to marry his brother no matter what, she'd asked if he, Thor, would do the honor of binding them together? There's been a moment of stunned silence, as apparently _no one_ knew she'd been going to request that. It'd only been broken when the book Loki had been reading slipped through numb fingers to fall to the floor. And then Thor, with a suspiciously thick voice, had said that if that's what his new sister wished, then who was he to deny her? Evelyn had made a happy sound, grabbed Thor in a quick hug, and then turned a beaming smile towards Loki.

"Want to get married today?" she'd asked excitedly, for once the weight of their situation not showing at all on her face. Unable to say no in the face of such joy—he's kidding himself, he's never really been able to deny her anything in his power to give—they'd been married that night. It was the break none of them really had known they'd needed.

Now, watching the memory again with only Thor beside him, seeing the makeshift family they'd cobbled together whole and happy, is more painful than he'd thought it'd be. Even if they all meet again, they won't be the people he fought beside, died beside. It hurts, so he lets it all fade away again, blinking away the tears that just don't seem to want to leave him alone today.

"Lady Evelyn Rosalie of House Potter, House Black, House Gryffindor, and House Slytherin is the woman I married four years ago or will twenty five years in the future," he says quietly. "She is kind and brave and steadfast and loyal. She has a fiery temper once provoked. She is selfishly selfless and able to bring out the best in just about anyone she meets." He laughs weakly. "Myself included, for all that I fought her every step of the way. She has and will give her life if it means keeping those she considers under her protection safe."

"She can also match your wit and magic word for word and blow for blow," Thor adds helpfully.

"That she can, that she can," Loki agrees fondly, "and I despised her for it that first year after we met." Stars had they snipped and snarked back and forth while tearing the proverbial flesh off each other with whatever they could manage to eek out of the other. It wasn't until Evelyn had slipped and snapped at him about how at least his cell was more comfortable than a cupboard under the stairs that things had started to change. At first he'd been enraged because she was Hela's Avatar, and no one touched something that belonged to one of _his_, but it'd quickly changed to because it was _her_.

"She mentioned being equally annoyed with you, although reluctantly glad that you didn't know her history to begin with," Thor comments.

Loki shrugs carelessly. "It was probably for the better for both of us." Then he sighs, dropping his face into his hands. He can't keep avoiding talking about it. "In twenty two years time, the Convergence will occur," he states flatly, ignoring the sharp intakes of breath across from him. "The Aether was found and because of that, Malekith awakened from wherever he and his kind are currently hibernating. He managed to gain control of it, proceeding to then try and suck out all the light from the Nine Realms. We stopped him, but the damage was already done. The Realms were out of alignment, not that we knew. Not until two months later when Svartalfheim collapsed in on itself."

He looks up now, looks at the two beings who raised him for better or for worse. Frigga's abject horror is expected, and Loki grieves for its necessity. Odin's frozen look of betrayal, however, gives him vindicated pleasure. He still remembers the stories of Bor, Odin's father, and how he'd destroyed the Dark Elves. To see Odin experiencing the same pain he himself felt after learning the truth about his heritage, to learn that the one you looked up to _lied_ to you about something so vastly important, is darkly and _deeply_ satisfying.

"Alfheim followed Svartalfheim a year later. Jotunheim and Muspelheim the year after." Here he pauses, drawing in a shaking breath while reaching out to take Thor's hand in his. "When Vanaheim collapsed the next year, Thor—" He chokes briefly before forcing himself to get the words out. "Thor fell with it ensuring that as many people as possible got to safety."

"I am sorry my death caused you such sorrow, but I will not apologize for giving my life in return for your safety," Thor says solemnly, laying his other hand on top of their joined ones.

"You and Eve do _not_ need to carry the weight of the Realms around on your shoulders," he snaps, bristling because of _course_ the two people he holds closest to his heart have absolutely no sense of self preservation whatsoever.

Thor smiles sadly at him. "It is who we are, brother."

"Yes, well, I'm starting to wish you _hadn't_ had that blasted change of heart," Loki grumbles, not really meaning it in the slightest. He'd much rather have this Thor. This Thor, at least, will actually listen to what he has to say, rather than just brush him off the instant he goes to open his mouth.

"As you say, brother." Thor gives his hand one gentle squeeze before letting go. "How did the others fare after my death?"

"You're being oddly calm about that particular fact."

"And what good would come of dwelling on something that has no longer happened? I made my peace with it then. Nothing's changed beyond the fact that I've now survived."

"Please, may we not—" Frigga's broken voice reminds Loki that for all he's somewhat made peace with the idea of Thor dying, Frigga most certainly has _not_.

"My apologies, Mother, I didn't mean to distress you," Loki murmurs as Thor moves to sit beside her. She presses up against him, latching onto him physically and magically in an attempt to reassure herself that her son is really there.

"You held a Gate open yourself?" Odin speaks up for the first time since he arrived, and Loki has to refrain from instinctively slapping a silencing spell onto the man. He doesn't think that'd go over very well with anyone but himself.

"I did, but Loki was the one who opened it in the first place," Thor says, nodding in his direction.

"There were cracks everywhere, it wasn't overly hard," he mutters back.

"Yet no one else could, or did," his brother points out. "Nor, I imagine, would they have been able to connect Vanaheim and Nidavelir as you did to enable the evacuation in the first place. The others?"

Loki sighs when Thor again requests information about after him dying. "Banner didn't last the year. We never could determine what exactly he'd been poisoned with, but it ate away at him and the Hulk all the same. We lost Rogers and Stark when Nidavelir fell. Rogers was cut down mid battle, but none of us could get to him in time to save him. Stark blew up his armor shortly thereafter. We didn't ever learn why exactly he did that. Not even his faithful machines could answer that question for us." Evelyn had been devastated. She took every death hard, but those two? Stark was something they both enjoyed matching wits with, and Rogers' kind heart was someone his wife found a kindred spirit in. "When we were moving refugees, Romanoff was killed and Barton didn't last long without her. Neither Evelyn or I could truly begrudge him that fact. I did the same, after all." He laughs bitterly. "It's what landed us here."

"And Asgard?"

"Fell four months go. As I said, Midgard and Niflheim were the only two remaining." His hands twist at the fabric on his legs as he fights for control. "T'Challa fell with Wakanda and his people when the Dark Elves and Chitauri made their final move a week ago, and Evelyn was hit with a blasted death spell. I managed to keep her alive for a week for nothing." A harsh sob escapes as he doubles over. "I couldn't _save_ her! Her, of all people! She who learned what I'd done, what madness I'd descended to, and still reached out a hand to save me. She _saved_ me, and I couldn't bloody well return the favor, not even with all my magic and knowledge and wit at my disposal." His knuckles are bone white as he slams a hand onto the table in front of him. It creaks and groans, but holds.

"You saved her, Loki," Thor insists. "You saved all of us."

He raises his head to sneer at his brother, stopping him from coming over again. "And yet I took so much more than I gave. I took her _son_ from her, Thor. She's but a child now, and the boy isn't even born yet. Now there's no hope of ever recovering him like I had planned to."

Only once had Evelyn shown him a picture of the little boy left to her to raise after the war she'd grown up in. It'd been after Alfheim fell and they'd just started working with those on Midgard. She'd been quiet—a sad, solemn kind of quiet—and he'd questioned her. Questioned why she sat on a ledge of Stark's tower looking east like her heart was breaking when it was a sunny summer day. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she'd answered him. Told him about the boy she'd raised and loved and had had to leave behind. Told him how he was graduating from Hogwarts that very day, and how she'd sworn to stay away until everything was settled. How she didn't want to drag him into this mess and for him to live as normal a life as he could. How it still hurt, painfully and desperately, but she'd do it because he was her son and she loved him so much. Then she'd quietly asked to be left alone and to please not bring him up again.

He'd done as she asked, leaving her alone out there on the balcony. He'd made sure that no one else disturbed her, and when she was back to her usual self the day after, he never brought it up. However, he never forgot. Never forgot that she loved that boy with her whole heart and soul for all that there wasn't a shared drop of blood between the two of them. And if he wanted her, then that boy would eventually be his as well. She'd accept nothing less. So he made plans. Plans he never actually told his wife about to respect his promise. However, while making them, he'd managed to make peace with the notion of Frigga being his mother.

Thor reels back like he's been slapped. "She had a child?"

"A son," he states flatly. "One she'd been forced to leave behind. His birth parents were killed in the war and they had named her his godmother. She raised him from an infant and then sent him off to school before Hela dumped her in—" His teeth clack from how quickly he shuts his mouth. Neither he or Thor have mentioned his imprisonment. He exhales sharply through his nose before continuing. "Before Hela dumped her in my cell," he finishes around clenched teeth.

Thor blinks. "I had wondered how you two met."

"Your cell?" Frigga repeats, concerned. "Loki, why were you in a cell?"

"Because I'd discovered I was Jotun, attempted to destroy Jotunheim with the Bifrost, fell off the bridge, and then under Thanos' influence, tried to take over Midgard," he snarls, temper worn and frayed. "Odin didn't particularly appreciate that, so into a cell I went."

"The Mad Titan?" Odin demands. "How did you come by him?"

He bristles, magic surging through his veins as his temper spikes like only Odin can make it. "I _told_ you, I fell off the bridge! Thor destroyed the Observatory to save Jotunheim and I fell off shortly thereafter."

"You let go, brother," Thor softly corrects him. "You let go and we mourned your death for a year after."

"Well forgive me for thinking it better to be rid of you after discovering I was nothing more than a pawn!" he roars, leaping to his feet to tower over all three. "A stolen relic that no matter how much you may claim to love," he points a trembling finger at Odin, "you could never actually see sitting on the throne of Asgard!"

Silence falls after his outburst. Thor bows his head, unable to say anything. Frigga appears ready to cry again, and Loki hates himself for it. Odin, though? Odin appears defeated for the first time that Loki can remember.

"My son—"

"I am _not_ your son," he hisses. "I have no father." Unable to bear to be in the man's presence anymore, Loki turns and storms out.


	4. Chapter 4

So, I survived Endgame. But gods above, the feels! Anyways, enjoy chapter 4!

**Chapter 4: Fun at Gringotts**

Evelyn wakes to blessedly blissful silence. None of that screaming nonsense from earlier. She pries her eyes open to glare sleepily up at a ceiling that she doesn't recognize. That, of course, has her bolting upright, which turns out to be a horrible idea. The room spins as she flops back down with a groan, pressing the palms of her hands over her aching eyes.

"Eve?"

"Buggering _fuck_, that hurt worse than last time," she spits out. Of course it hurts worse than last time. The Killing Curse, surprisingly, is actually painless. Having a Horcrux extracted while fully conscious and connected to your nervous system is bound to be more painful. Why that woman couldn't have knocked her out before hand, Evelyn doesn't know.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Dudley asks warily.

"Once the room stops trying to upend itself, yeah, I'll be fine," she hisses. "Do you know where we are?"

"She said she put us up in a room in a leaky cauldron?"

Well, that makes things significantly easier for what Evelyn has planned to do before trying to somehow get to Asgard. Peeking out of one eye, she sees that the room does look vaguely similar to the one she'd stayed in before her third year.

"Food?"

"To be brought up when we ask for it. Is this place really called 'Leaky Cauldron'?"

Evelyn huffs out a weak laugh. "Yeah. We aren't really the brightest when it comes to naming things."

"As long as it doesn't actually leak."

She laughs for real this time. She laughs long and hard until her laughter turns into sobs and she curls up into a ball, letting out all her accumulated grief. When Dudley hurriedly settles onto the bed beside her, she clings to him. Mercifully, he doesn't say anything, just awkwardly pats her back and lets her cry.

"I'm sorry," she gasps out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Eve, _no_," Dudley rushes to stop her apologies. "You had a reason, it's _okay_."

"They were all _gone_," she cries. "They were gone and I couldn't—we couldn't—"

"It's okay, we're okay."

She viciously shakes her head. It's not okay. Her family is _gone_. Both magical and mundane. All the trials and hardships and joys and triumphs they shared together, gone. Even if she manages to meet them again, they won't remember and they won't be _hers_. When the grief threatens to overwhelm her, she forcibly shoves it to the back of her mind. Dudley, for all that he changed, can't help her with this. Breaking apart will have to wait until she gets to Asgard and Loki.

She uncurls from around her cousin, furiously wiping away her tears. He gives her a concerned look, but she waves it away.

"I'm fine now," she says, her voice wavering only slightly.

His expression is dubious—rightly so, she thinks—but he doesn't push her on it. Probably realizes there's not much he can do, not with how little he actually knows about what exactly she's been through. "Food then?"

"Yeah, food," she agrees. Food should be simple, and she needs simple right now. "Do we ring for it?"

Dudley pulls a face. "Ah, something about a house elf?"

Evelyn blinks. "I didn't even know there was a house elf here. Huh." She shrugs. "Service please."

With a faint _pop_, a house elf in a pillow case appears at the end of the bed. "What can Daffy be getting sir and miss?"

Ignoring Dudley's startled yelp, she realizes she has no idea what time of day it is. "What meal is being served right now?"

"Lunch, miss."

Well, she apparently slept in late. Good thing they aren't at Privet Drive anymore. Petunia would've thrown a fit if she'd slept in that late there. "You wouldn't happen to have fish and chips, would you?" she asks hopefully. That and tea are the two things she's missed the most about home. The tea is abysmal over in America, so she learned to live with coffee to not subject herself to that horror, and she never did find anywhere that did as good fish and chips as any she had in England. She'll get her tea fix later, but if they have fish and chips, then she just might start crying again.

"We is having fish and chips. Is that was miss be wanting?"

"_Please_." Her mouth's already watering and she hasn't even gotten a whiff of food smell yet.

"And sir?" Daffy looks at Dudley, who hasn't made a sound beyond his earlier yelp. "What does sir be wanting?"

"Fish and chips is fine," he says faintly.

"Daffy be returning shortly with sir and miss' food." With another _pop_, the house elf disappears, and Evelyn collapses while giggling after getting a good look at Dudley's face.

"What was that?" he demands. "That looked like a little troll, goblin thing!"

Evelyn can't help her snort. "I'd recommend _not_ saying that when we go to Gringotts later, cousin mine. The goblins will take serious offence, and let me tell you, that's something to be avoided. And _that_ was a house elf. Usually you'll see them bound to a particular wizarding family, but establishments have them as well. They're a bit like having all the hired help rolled up into one little helpful creature."

Dudley blinks rapidly. "What's Gringotts and why the bloody hell would _goblins_ be there?"

Evelyn tilts her head to the side. "I could've sworn I explained that to you. Gringotts is the bank here, and the goblins run it. We'll be going there after we eat to see what can be done before my eleventh birthday. Don't think I'll get access to much, but I just want to check regardless." And start poking at how to get that bloody Horcrux out of Lestrange's vault without having to ride a fucking dragon through the bank's ceiling. Avoiding having to reenact that particular nightmare would be greatly appreciated. Evelyn's pretty sure Loki would try and lock her away if she did, and she'd rather not have to hex her husband silly for the attempt.

"Right, goblins run banks." Dudley scrubs a hand over his face. "And do you have any idea what we're doing after that?"

"I had planned on trying to figure out a way to reach my husband."

Dudley nods. "Your husband, right. Who was he, again? That Draco guy?"

Now it's her turn to pull a face. At one time, maybe. They'd raised Teddy together—and the mere thought of her son, now truly lost to her, is a horrible punch to the gut that she _will not dwell on right now_, thanks—and she'd been happy with him. She'd honestly thought that maybe they could have a life together. Then Hela had grabbed her and dumped her into Loki's lap. Draco had been easy, for all that the mere idea was ridiculous. Loki had challenged and excited her in ways no one else ever had before.

"No, not Draco," she whispers, suddenly immensely glad that she won't have to deal with that particular explosion, cowardly as the thought is. She smiles weakly at her cousin. "Loki of Asgard, actually."

"Ah," is all Dudley says, his head bobbing up and down in a parody of a nod because he just keeps _doing it_.

Well, she officially broke her cousin.

"Just ignore that little fact for now," she suggests, patting him on the shoulder. "You look like your brain is hurting."

"Why are you so impossible?" he groans, flopping backwards to bury his face in a pillow.

Even though he can't see her, she grins down at him. "I'm a Potter, love. We are never ordinary. Our luck doesn't allow for anything less."

"Bloody Potter Luck," Dudley mutters as Daffy pops back in with two steaming plates.

"Lunch for sir and miss," the elf says, depositing the food onto a table snapped up before disappearing again.

"Merciful magic, that smells _amazing_," Evelyn breathes, scrambling off the bed and onto one of the two chairs provided as well. Not even waiting for Dudley to join her, she cuts off a big hunk of fish and puts it in her mouth despite the heat. The moan she produces is probably something she should save for her husband, given how red Dudley's face goes, but the fish is so fucking _good_.

"Can you please _not_?" Dudley requests, settling opposite her and tucking in as well. "I'd like to be able to eat too, thanks."

She points her knife at him in mock warning. "I've not had decent fish and chips or _tea_ in eight years. I will bloody well make whatever sounds I choose, thank you kindly."

Dudley stares at her before shaking his head. "Nope, just not asking."

Evelyn has to resist the urge to cackle. It's not hard, what with the delicious food in front of her. So instead she just smirks at Dudley from across the table. He, in turn, pointedly ignores her. They eat their meal in relative silence, only a few appreciative noises escaping her every now and then. None of them as obscene as that first one, though.

She's licking lingering salt off her fingers, humming happily under her breath, when Dudley suddenly asks, "Eve, is there a reason your hair's red again? I thought you had black when we were young."

She pauses mid lick, blinks as the question registers, then reaches up to tug on a lock. Surprisingly, not only is it the familiar shade of red she acquired after losing the Horcrux the first time, it's also far longer than Petunia ever allowed her to have. She's a bit amazed she hadn't noticed this before. "Not a sodding clue," she replies. "It changed the first time I lost the Horcrux. Did I have it before the soul piece was removed?"

"You blew up the _stairs_," Dudley stresses. "I wasn't worried about your bloody hair color. Why?"

She shrugs. "Then I haven't the foggiest. Just chalk it up to Potter Luck and be done with it. You'll only give yourself a migraine otherwise trying to logic it out."

"Trying to apply logic to _you_ is enough to give anyone a migraine," Dudley mutters.

She grins cheekily. "I do so try. Now, are you finished? If you are, I'd like to head to Gringotts now. No telling how bloody long this'll take."

"Yeah, I'm done." He slides out of his chair only to go over to a stack of cloth she hadn't noticed before now. "We're apparently supposed to wear these before going out into Diagon Alley." He holds up two cloaks. "She also left us a change of clothes."

Evelyn frowns. "That's oddly specific. How would she even know our sizes?"

Dudley gives her an incredulous look. "You think _I_ know? I was just bloody happy you'd stopped screaming. I didn't think to ask about the offer of free clothes."

"Another thing to talk to Hela about," she grumbles, walking over to grab a cloak and her change of clothes. "Washroom?" He points to one of the two doors. She nods in thanks before striding purposefully over to it. "I'll knock before coming back out, so you change too." She doesn't wait for a reply, simply shutting the door firmly behind herself. Clutching the clothes to her chest, she draws in a deep breath before making herself look in the mirror.

It's sort of what she expected, yet at the same time, not.

Her hair is the familiar red tangled curls she gained twenty two years prior. Sharp emerald green eyes stare back at her warily, and above them is an already fading lightning bolt. She has to admit, she's looking forward to no one being able to use that to recognize her. With a slightly manic grin, she realizes she can even play dumb about the stupid thing if she plays her cards right. No more stupid Scarface!

The state of the rest of her body, however, is definitely cause for concern. She's _really_ short and almost gaunt with how skinny she is. She sighs. Loki is going to fuss up a storm and probably force feed her potions to try and do damage control. Maybe she'll manage to be taller this go round, she thinks wistfully.

The clothes are simple enough. Jeans, surprisingly, and a green collared shirt. If Evelyn didn't know that there's no feasible way for Loki to have been a part of choosing said clothes, she'd accuse him of trying to stake a claim. In the end, she just puts both on, grimacing at how freaking tiny the pants are. She has nothing on her to be able to work with her hair, so it'll just have to be what it is.

She knocks hard on the door, and when Dudley doesn't protest, slips back into the main room. He got jeans as well, and a plain black shirt. He stares at her in horrified fascination, her old clothes having done a pretty good job of covering up her slimness.

"Not a word," she warns, pointing a finger at him. "I'll be fine. Leave the fussing to my husband."

Dudley, of course, ignores her and walks over to grab her in a rather tight hug. "I'm sorry," he whispers desperately into her hair.

She sighs, patting him awkwardly on the back. "We were kids, Dud. We were kids and your parents not the best of role models. I forgave you for all that, remember? We even went to therapy together and everything. Please, please, _please_ don't start bringing it back up."

"Sorry, sorry." He hurriedly backs away, clearing his throat. "So, Gringotts?"

They both know what he's doing, but since Evelyn has absolutely _no_ intention of opening that box back up again, she let's it go. "Gringotts," she agrees, easily throwing her cloak around her shoulders. Dudley, attempting to copy her and utterly failing, manages to get himself thoroughly tangled. "Want help?" Evelyn asks mildly, her lips twitching as she fights to hold in her laughter.

He shoots her a glare. "Not all of us are dramatic ponces," he grumbles, tugging helplessly at the fabric.

"Hah, if you think being able to put on a simple cloak is ponce worthy, my husband would blow your mind," Evelyn chuckles, stepping up to help set him to straights.

"He already makes my head hurt, and I thought we agreed not to bring him up again."

"You're going to have to accept it at some point."

"Not today I don't," he hisses back, which, fair.

With one last tug, she has the cloak situated properly over her cousin's shoulders. "Right then, shall we go?"

Dudley waves a hand at the door. "After you. I haven't the foggiest where we're going."

She places her hand on the door knob before turning back. "Do we have a key?" she asks. "For that matter, how long exactly do we even have the room for?"

Her cousin holds up a key and replies, "Two days. We gotta figure something out by tomorrow, even if it's just rebooking the room."

Evelyn nods. "Easily done," she says, throwing the door open and marching determinedly out. She throws her hood up, hearing Dudley scramble to get the door locked and hurry after her. He huffs under his breath once he does, knocking his arm into her in mock irritation. She just grins to herself, glad to have him beside if nothing else.

Getting into Diagon Alley, thankfully, goes off without a hitch. Evelyn has a brief moment of panic when she realizes she has no wand to open the the doorway, but they manage to approach it along with a group that they can slip in with.

"Blimey," Dudley breathes, and Evelyn can't help her proud grin. For all the Wizarding World's faults, Diagon Alley is rather spectacular. Stepping into it the first time is a bit like seeing Hogwarts as a first year when the boats round that last corner. Magical beyond all reasonable forms of description.

"Come on, Gringotts is down at the end," Evelyn says, tugging at her cousin's sleeve when he remains rooted where he is. He stumbles after her, head whipping in every direction to take in every last little detail that he can. It tears at her heart, but she completely and utterly ignores Eeylops Owl Emporium as they walk by. She can't bear the thought of accidentally seeing the owl that might be Hedwig.

When they finally get through the first set of doors to the bank, Evelyn pauses to let Dudley read the words carved into the silver doors they still have to go through. It's an experience and a rather good warning.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Well that's terrifying," Dudley mutters, shuffling a bit closer to her.

"That's rather the point, I think," Evelyn laughs, reaching out to push open the door. "Keeps people from—"

The sudden blaring of alarms cuts her statement short.

Evelyn blinks stupidly as the door she just touched continues to swing open without her help, revealing every goblin on the floor suddenly up in arms. "You've got to be kidding me," she says flatly when all eyes snap onto her.

"Your luck bloody sucks, Eve," Dudley grumbles.

"I didn't _do_ anything!" she hisses back, even as the goblins close ranks around them.

"Witch, King Ragnok will see you now," one commands, eyeing her and Dudley warily.

The twitch of an eyebrow is the only form of frustration Evelyn allows herself to show. "Joy," she deadpans. "Well, lead on, then. I wanted to talk with someone anyways. Might as well be King Ragnok."

"_King?!_" Dudley's strangled shriek brings her more joy than it probably should, given their current situation of being led into previously unknown depths of the bank. "We're going to see a _king?!_"

"Cousin mine, stick with me long enough, and I'll introduce you to the bloody king of Asgard," she drawls. After she rips him a new one for his abysmal parenting skills, however. She has eight years of ammo lined up, and by the grace of magick itself, she's going to use it, damn it! The pained moan he produces has her grinning just a bit viciously. There's a brief moment where the steady thudding of boots falters, but when Evelyn looks at their escorts, nothing shows on any of their faces.

The door they're led to, surprisingly, is not big and large and gold and covered in gems like Evelyn had expected. Well, she supposes it's large for a goblin, but a full grown wizard could still easily fit through it. The wood is stained darkly, making the little inlaid silver stand out all the more.

One of the two guards standing on either side of it knocks three times as they approach before opening it. Evelyn sweeps in, confident in every step she takes for all that this entire situation has her rattled. She has absolutely no idea what set off the alarm, but it's definitely something to do with her. Dudley is a silent shadow now, hovering at her elbow. For that, she's grateful. He's probably terrified out of his mind, but so long as he stays quiet and lets her talk, she's fairly certain she can get them out whatever this is.

"King Ragnok," she says, dipping into a bow because curtsying without a skirt is just too weird. "Well—"

"I do not need your simpering pleasantries, witch," King Ragnok snarls, standing at the base of a throne that, again, is far less gaudy that Evelyn expected. "Explain to me why you dared bring Soul Magic into my bank!"

Everything in her stills.

"And how, exactly, do you claim to know I did?" she asks softly, straightening back up to look Ragnok in the eye.

"We have wards, witch, wards that your people only dream of learning, and your magic reeks of it." He points his sword at her. "Do you deny this?"

"I deny nothing," she throws back. "Now what, exactly, has you all up in arms over that little fact?"

"Soul Magic is dangerous and I make it a point to know when anything dangerous enters my bank."

Evelyn tilts her head to the side, lips curling back in a snarl when one goblin takes a step towards her cousin. "**Touch him and I'll gladly demonstrate why exactly I caught the eye of Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard. And don't think I'm just a squeamish little human. I've fought in two different wars and have seen my fair share of death,**" she growls, slipping into their native language to make sure they know she's serious. She'd made it a point to learn Gobbledegook after the war and the entire fiasco at the bank.

That seems to give Ragnok pause, because he holds up a hand and all goblins freeze where they are. "**You know our tongue.**"

She raises an eyebrow. "**I know a fair number of things, probably more than my so called Magical Guardian would care for me to.**" She bares her teeth at him. "**Would you like a demonstration?**"

There's a moment of silence before Ragnok shakes his head. "No, I think not. However, you still haven't explained how and why you brought Soul Magic into my bank."

"The how, I suppose, is because my husband used Soul Magic on me. Unfortunately, it seems like some remains of it still linger in my own magic, regardless of the fact that it should've left by now. As to the why?" She gives Ragnok a disbelieving look. "Why does anyone visit a bank? I wanted to see my account manager and do whatever I could before my birthday when I'll take up the mantle of Lady of House Potter, House Gryffindor, and House Slytherin."

"You willingly let someone use Soul Magic on you?" Ragnok asks incredulously.

Her expression falls flat. "Well, it was either that or die. Surprisingly, I chose the option where I might live."

"Eve?" Dudley whispers hesitantly, placing a hand on her arm.

"I said they were all gone, didn't I, cousin?" Her laugh is broken and sharp. "Every last one of them dead as the Realms collapsed one by one." She fixes a wild look on Ragnok, who actually takes a step back in the face of her grief. "We used Soul Magic, King Ragnok, because we had nothing left to lose. We were the last two left, my husband and I. We were the last that remained of those not in hiding while the world fell to pieces around us. Does that sound like a suitable time to use Soul Magic, your majesty?"

Silence falls again. She's getting rather good at making that happen.

"It appears we have misjudged you entirely," Ragnok intones, sheathing his sword. Then, to Evelyn complete and utter amazement, he places a hand over his heart and bows to her. "Well met Evelyn Rosalie Potter, Warrior of the Realms."

Stiffening her spine, she returns the bow. "Well met King Ragnok, Director of Gringotts Bank."

They both straighten back up, regarding the other with the respect of an equal.

"How may Gringotts assist you, Warrior Potter?" Ragnok inquires.

"I'd really like to talk with my account manager if at all possible," she requests a touch dryly. "There are things I'd like for him to prep for our meeting on my birthday, as I have plans to be in Asgard until then."

"Of course. Griphook will take you to Account Manager Barchoke's office immediately."

Evelyn dips her head respectfully. "My thanks." She starts to turn, only for something to occur to her. "Is this nonsense going to happen every time I try and visit my vaults?"

Ragnok seems to consider this. He doesn't look anymore fond of the idea than her. "I'll have our Curse Breakers look into it. I will have an answer before you leave."

"Lovely. **Honor and glory to you, King Ragnok.**"

The goblin king blinks in obvious surprise before a wide grin spreads across his lips. "**Honor and glory to you as well, Warrior Potter.**"

Evelyn returns the grin, then turns on her heel and follows Griphook out of the office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Done with all the feels, thanks**

Without meaning to, Loki's feet take him to the garden he frequented when he was younger. It had been his escape whenever he couldn't take anymore of Thor's pigheadedness. It also happened to be the one Frigga would occasionally visit. They spent many a sunny afternoon together, Frigga teaching Loki some spell or just each reading a book.

Now, he collapses onto one of the benches Frigga had put in years ago. He's shaking, from rage or fear, he's not quite sure. Probably a combination of the two. Even seven years after last seeing the man, he's still not prepared to face Odin. It's a bit humiliating, actually. He gasps out a desperate sob, doubling over as he attempts to rein in his grief.

He wants Evelyn.

He wants her, yet knows she won't come. Not now, not when he needs her strength and confidence and wit and kindness as a buffer against the hardships that await him here. For all that Thor will try, he just doesn't understand like Evelyn does. His magic crawls under his skin, reaching for her even though she's far beyond his grasp. After four years of having her settled inside him, the sudden separation is rubbing him the wrong way.

The soft, barely noticeable sound of paws on grass draws him back to the present. He lifts his head to see Fenrir prowling around the edge of the garden, dark grey fur blending in with the shadows. Today the wolf is roughly the size of a horse. It must be because he came into the palace proper, usually choosing to be much larger.

Stars, that'd been an interesting conversation with Evelyn. With the whole team, actually. He'd been _very_ surprised that the legends placed Fenrir, Sleipnir, and Jörmungandr as his _biological_ children. Fenrir and Sleipnir, he partially understood. He raised both of them from infancy, imbued them with his magic and power. It's how Fenrir's capable of changing his size and why Sleipnir was born with eight legs instead of four(Evelyn and Barton had laughed themselves sick after _that_ particular story). Jörmungandr, though? That he has _no_ idea where the stories came from. The only time he ever had a serpent in his possession was when he stumbled upon a basilisk, and that had been pure accident. He'd rather quickly passed it off to Salazar. The blasted thing wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and he with it.

"Hello Fenrir," he murmurs in greeting.

_Father,_ the wolf rumbles back, finally approaching. _You are distressed about something. We felt the taint in the air last night._

Loki sinks his fingers into Fenrir's fur. "I was forced to use Soul Magic," he whispers as Fenrir settles on the ground beside him. That statement, of course, has the wolf's head shooting back up.

_I remember you telling us of the dangers of it. What could possibly drive you to use it?_

"Nothing good." He swallows around the lump in his throat. "The Nine Realms were collapsing. There were so few of us left." He chuckles weakly. "I married again, Fen. She…stars, she's everything I could ever dream of wanting. She met me at my lowest, when I'd all but given up on myself, and she dragged me back up. And then she went and got hit with a death spell and I couldn't…" He chokes, bowing his head and tightening his grip on Fenrir's fur. "I used Soul Magic because I couldn't lose her like I lost Sigyn."

_Is she the one Sister Hela is so excited over?_

Loki manages to nod. "She's Hela's Avatar on Midgard. She's even Godric and Salazar's Heirs. She's every bit as fierce and daring and courageous as Godric and can be as sly and witty and tricky as Salazar. She is as loyal as Helga ever was and her thirst for knowledge as powerful as Rowena's. She has the best and worst of all four of them in her." She, unfortunately, got Godric's bullheadedness and stubbornness and sheer _recklessness_, Salazar's ability to reduce someone to a whimpering mess with but a few words(he's okay with that ability when it's not pointed at him but stars had she wielded it masterfully against him at first), Rowena's single mindedness when researching in that she forgets the rest of the world, and, just like Helga, once her loyalty is lost, there's no chance of redemption in her eyes.

Fenrir shifts slightly to press up against his legs. _Her name?_

Now he can smile, if only faintly. "Evelyn Rosalie Potter."

_I look forward to meeting her, then. When will you be bringing to Asgard?_

His expression sours, magic chilling the air slightly with his displeasure. "Hela forbid me to go and get her."

Fenrir side eyes him. _I know Sister Hela is Goddess of Death, but you are her father and her Alpha. She should not be able to forbid you anything._

Loki barks out a sharp, painful laugh. "As Goddess of Death, when she chooses to intervene, even Odin Allfather listens. Death is beyond time, and as such, she's sometimes privy to things we do not know and will not for a time yet. And then there's little fact that she was accompanied by someone I would swear on my magic was a Valkyrie, but the woman had _black_ feathers, not white. She even called Hela 'milady'."

_I do not remember Sister Hela ever having Valkyrie of her own. They are all from Valhalla, correct?_ the wolf asks.

"I thought so as well, but last night proved otherwise," Loki mutters. Why, then, hadn't Hela mentioned it to him before? While he might not've been able to be the best father to her after the incident that forced her to Helheim, he still tried. They met when they could and talked about their lives. Somehow gaining Valkyrie should've been something monumental to inform him of. She'd complained multiple times that having to go out and collect souls was exhausting on top of having to make sure everything was in place in Helheim when said souls arrived. He would think that getting someone to help would be something she'd be rather eager to talk about.

Fenrir nudges him before pointing his snout back towards the palace. _Your brother is approaching. Should I chase him away?_

Loki can't help his snort of amusement. There's been a few times where he's taken Fenrir up on the offer and it's always been entertaining. "No, he can come. You'll find he's a rather changed man, Fen."

The wolf grumbles in the back of his throat. _I will believe that when I see it._

Now that Loki's actually concentrating on it, he can feel the sparking of Thor's power getting closer. He tips his head to the side, watching his brother come into view and then pause at the garden's edge.

"Is my company welcome, brother?" Thor inquires, raising his voice only enough to be heard. "Or are you going to have Fenrir chase me away again?"

Loki smiles tiredly at him, jerking his head in offering. "It's not you I'm angry with. At least, not right now."

Thor dips his head in acknowledgement while walking over. "Then I shall endeavour to keep it that way." He settles himself on the bench on the opposite side of Loki that Fenrir is. "Hello Fenrir. Keeping Loki company?"

Fenrir regards him silently for a moment before pointing out, _You are missing your hammer._

"He blew it up last night," Loki says blithely, amused with how the wolf twitches. "That's what the explosion was, and why our wing of the palace is little more than rubble at the moment."

_I had wondered._ He gives Thor a measured look. _And what, exactly, drove you to destroying the weapon that enables you to wield your powers more easily?_

Thor, unlike what Fenrir is probably expecting, just sighs. "Having given my life with Mjolnir already broken, only to find myself waking up in a bed I had not slept in for four years, caused my powers to react badly and it was too much for Mjolnir to handle. While I will mourn the loss again," Lightning jumps easily between his fingertips, snapping and cracking and popping in the air, "I had a year to master my power without it." He smiles wryly. "Rest assured, whatever stories Loki told of our younger years will not be happening again."

"That is good, because my retaliation would be much worse than it was in our youth," Loki comments blandly. He hadn't expected it otherwise, but everyone else will probably be thankful for that bit.

There's a bit of cheekiness in the smile Thor offers back. "Forgive me, brother, but I think I fear Evelyn's retaliation more than yours."

Loki pauses, thinks about it, and then nods in agreement. "Fair enough." She is rather vicious about protecting what's hers, just like him. Given that she's already had a go at Thor, it's perfectly logical that his brother would wish to prevent a repeat of said experience. No need to inform Thor that that would only happen if he _really_ screwed up. A little fear is healthy in life.

_You have met Father's new wife, then?_ Fenrir asks.

Thor puffs his chest out proudly. "I married them. She is good for him and he for her. Our team decorated the tower we resided in for the occasion at Evelyn's request."

Fenrir cocks his head to the side, giving Loki a curious look. _You did not marry here in Asgard?_

He grimaces, fingers tightening around Fenrir's fur without meaning to. "Neither of us were welcome in Asgard at the time." And Loki isn't sure he'd have even wanted to if they had been, what with Frigga being dead and most of Asgard hating him. Pushing those thoughts away, as he refuses to dwell on them, he looks to Thor. "How was Mother when you left?" he asks softly, carding his fingers through Fenrir's fur in apology.

Thor exhales noisily. "Distraught, but giving Father a tongue lashing. Apparently, telling you the truth of your heritage has been something of a disagreement between them ever since our youth."

_Is that why Father smells like frost when none of the rest of your pack does?_ Fenrir inquires. _Because I had wondered, but it did not seem like an issue when your Alpha accepted him regardless._

"You knew?" Loki hisses, lurching to his feet. "You knew and you said _nothing?_"

"Brother, he knew no better," Thor hurriedly says, standing as well and maneuvering himself between them. "While he might've known of the Jotun, can you honestly say that Fenrir has ever met another Jotun besides yourself? How was he to know what the difference in our scents truly meant?"

Loki remains rooted where he stands, breathing harshly, as Fenrir gets up. He forces his brewing, twisting magic back down, not truly wanting to hurt the cub he raised all those years ago over something he couldn't have known to be so important.

_If I had known what it meant, I would have told you, Father,_ Fenrir insists.

Loki makes himself take multiple deep breaths before speaking again. "I believe you. It doesn't matter anymore, anyways." There's an edge to his voice he's unable to get rid of.

Fenrir steps forward to press his face into Loki's chest. _I am sorry, Father._

Loki has to swallow around a lump that rises in his throat. "I know, Fenrir. I apologize for losing my temper."

Fenrir huffs, pressing even closer briefly before drawing back and looking to Thor. _Father was right. You are a changed man._ There's a pause before the wolf adds, _Uncle_.

Thor hesitates momentarily, then reaches out to run his fingers over Fenrir's fur. "I shall endeavor to remain so, nephew."

Loki jolts, never having heard Thor refer to Fenrir as that. For all that Fenrir and Sleipnir call him father, no one else has ever really acknowledged that bond as they see it. At least, nowhere that he could actually hear it.

Fenrir yawns, flashing his teeth lazily in the sunlight. _See to it that you do. Father, I will go inform Nir of what happened. If you need me, I will be remaining near the palace for a while._

"I'll come find you if Evelyn arrives within the next few days," Loki assures him, giving him one last pat before the wolf lopes off. He watches him vanish around a turn, and only then does he let himself collapse again. "He _knew_," he whispers brokenly, desperately wishing that he could just stop with all the emotions that just seem to keep assaulting him today. He's getting tired of thinking he's fine, only for something else to turn up and bring his world crashing back down again. Without Evelyn here to help temper him, he's not sure how much longer he can last if it keeps happening.

"Do you wish to be left alone, or do you want to be distracted?" Thor inquires, not even bothering to offer help with sorting out his emotions because they both know how _that_ would end(badly, so very badly). At least now Thor asks what he wants to do, rather than just deciding for him.

"Distracted," Loki states flatly, done with emotions for the time being.

"Very well. If you'll follow me?"

* * *

Sif is confused.

She's not used to being confused. At least, not about this. Not about Thor.

It's been the talk of the city what happened last night. Some powerful form of magic suddenly heavy in the air, and then Thor goes and blows up a whole wing of the palace. She, along with Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg, had immediately gone to arms, only to be turned away when they tried to entered the royal wing. Like everyone else, they'd been told to come back in the morning, as the situation was under control at present.

So she'd left. Begrudgingly, but she'd left.

And then, as suggested, she returns after waking at a more reasonable hour, only to be turned away again. The Royal Family isn't accepting any visitors, and it isn't known when exactly they will be. So she goes to a training ring to work off some of her stress, not wanting to go all the way back home with nothing to show for her day.

When she no longer feels liable to punch one of the palace guards if given an unfavorable answer _again_, she tries one more time to be granted entrance to the royal wing. Now she's informed that, while the King and Queen remain and require further privacy, the two Princes have since left.

"And do you know where Thor has gone?" she asks, the beginning of impatience starting to rise up.

"The palace gardens, Lady Sif," the guard promptly replies.

Sif blinks. The gardens? She can't remember the last time Thor voluntarily entered the gardens. That's more Loki and Queen Frigga's domain. "You are certain it was the gardens?"

"Yes, Lady Sif. He was following after his brother."

Ah, that makes more sense. And, thankfully, this also means she knows which garden to go to. For all his trickery and secrets, Loki does have a favorite.

"My thanks," she says, then turns to march determinedly in the direction of said garden. Blessedly, no one attempts to stop her. Unfortunately, when she arrives, there's no one there. Just a lingering smell of ozone and wolf. Gnashing her teeth together, she stalks through some of the nearby gardens in the hopes that maybe they're in one of them. No such luck.

"Lady Sif?"

It takes every measure of patience she can dredge up to keep from snapping at the guard who calls to her. "Yes?"

"Prince Thor and Prince Loki left for the eastern training grounds a few minutes before you arrived."

Well, that explained why they hadn't already run into each other. She'd been at the western ones. However, the eastern training grounds are usually reserved for the training of powers and magicks, not the body. Again, she can't remember the last time Thor voluntarily went there. He's been content with wielding his power through Mjolnir and not really attempting any further mastery. She wonders if that's changed. She also wonders if that has anything to do with him destroying his and Loki's wing last night.

The smell of rain is rather heavy in the air as she approaches, which isn't all that surprising given the lightning flashing through the gathering clouds. She heads towards the one the lightning seems centered on, intent on giving Thor a piece of her mind and demanding an explanation for last night.

There's a barrier up when she finally reaches the particular training ground. Even with her rather limited knowledge of magicks she can tell the barrier is a masterful work of art. She sees no sign of Thor, for all the lightning being thrown around, but a few moments after she arrives she sees Loki casually strolling in her direction.

"Loki!" she calls out, "have you—?"

He holds up a hand without even looking at her, and she falls silent, if only to gape at him. That is _not_ something he's done before. Not to say he's submissive to her(to any of them to follow Thor, really), because Loki is any but that, but he generally at least acknowledges her when they meet. She's never been dismissed right out of hand.

An energized hush falls over them right before the sky lights up again. Lightning comes screaming down, striking at the sand covering the ground of the training field. While Sif tenses for an attack, Loki isn't fazed in the slightest. He even _tsks_ his tongue when the storm of frenzied lightning ceases.

"He's going sluggish," he mutters under his breath, absentmindedly waving a hand through the air. Sif can't help but gawk when the barrier comes shimmering down with nary a whisper to the winds. Usually there's at least _some_ form of noise when Loki brings down his barriers, a small _pop_ if nothing else. That had been completely and utterly silent.

Then Thor drops out of the sky, all windswept hair and laughing eyes and a proudly vicious smile on his lips, and Sif is staring again because for all the pride Thor is displaying, there's hardly any arrogance where once he'd be practically swimming it. A warm, unexpected kind of hope blooms in Sif's chest. This. _This_ is the king she's known has been buried under all Thor's arrogance and swagger, if only he'd let himself be humbled enough to see it. She doesn't know what changed between yesterday and today, what made this a reality, but she is thankful for it nevertheless.

"How was that, brother?" her prince asks, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. Sparks of lightning pop and fizzle in the air around him.

"Slow," Loki drawls. "You know you can't aim like you did with Mjolnir. You muck it up every time you do."

Sif is startled to realize that he is indeed missing Mjolnir. It's such an integral part of his image that she's surprised she didn't notice immediately.

Thor, however, throws his head back and laughs. "Then I suppose you will have fun devising target practice for me until you deem me sufficient."

A small, knowing smile curls at Loki's lips. "I will indeed." There's a great deal of self-satisfaction in his tone, along with a confidence that no longer seems tied to Thor's approval. Yet another thing Sif is surprisingly happy to see, for all that the current situation has her growing more and more confused with every passing second.

"Thor?" she calls out, loath though she is to break up the image of them getting along. Of Thor actually _listening_ to someone besides himself. Two sets of eyes turn to her, brimming with untold power, and she has to consciously make herself not take a step back.

"Hello Sif," Thor says, voice low and lacking the usual booming power of thunder behind it. "What brings you here today?"

Before she can answer, Loki scoffs and rolls his eyes skyward. "You blew up our wing of the palace, you imbecile. Why do you _think_ she sought you out?"

Thor blinks repeatedly, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Ah."

"Honestly," Loki mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "If this is what your kingship is going to be like, Asgard is in for a long couple of centuries."

Surprisingly, Thor pulls a face of disgust. "Are you certain—?"

Loki cuts him off with a flat, "Very. I think I've demonstrated just how horrible an idea that is."

"Mine wasn't going to be much better."

"Well, I have absolutely no desire for it anymore, so you're stuck with it." He claps his hands together. "I shall leave you two be now. Thor, feel free to explain what you wish to the lovely Sif as I have had quite enough of doing that myself for the time being. Should you need me, you know how to find me." And then he just walks off, leaving Sif feeling even more confused.

"Is he well?" she asks before she can stop herself.

Thor snorts, but stares sadly after his brother. "Physically, he is fine. We both are. However," Here Thor sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to face her more directly. "However, my brother was in a situation that forced him to use Soul Magic."

"_No,_" she breathes, horrified. Skilled or knowledgeable in magicks she might not be, there is no one who doesn't understand the price Soul or Death Magic demands or the toll it takes. For Loki, of all people, to be _forced_ to use it is beyond anything Sif wants to imagine.

"Indeed," Thor intones. "He used it, and now we are dealing with the after effects." He smiles wryly at her. "It's why I blew up our wing."

She frowns. "Why _did_ you do that? We tried entering the palace last night because of it, only to be turned away."

"I have not used Mjolnir in over a year, nor have I been to Asgard in nearly four." Thor shrugs as if he was simply commenting on the weather. "I reacted as if threatened, and Mjolnir couldn't withstand the strain, so it broke." He pauses almost hesitantly before adding, "Again."

"You _broke_ Mjolnir?" she all but yelps.

His expression goes grim and Sif's stomach rolls at the sight. Never has she seen him like this, not a speck of cheer to be found. "Aye, I broke it. I shall always be thankful that it was all I broke. I could have easily killed all those we were staying with, but Mjolnir took the brunt of my pain and anger, sparing us any further heartache."

"You were there when Loki used Soul Magic," she realizes, there being no other explanation for what he's telling her.

"No, I was not," Thor corrects her, completely throwing her. "By my brother's reckoning, I have been dead three years to him." Sif can't quite help the wounded noise she makes in the back of her throat at the mere idea of Thor being dead. "We aren't entirely sure why it is I remember at all. If he's to be believed, then it is because his wife's luck is rather odd and it affected the Soul Magic as he cast the spell." He tips his head to the side, staring beyond her. "I do recall Evelyn complaining about Potter Luck more than once, but never something of this magnitude." He shrugs again. "In any event, I am pleased that I _do_ remember. If only so my brother is not alone as he waits."

"You died," she repeats hoarsely, her mind stuck on that little fact.

"Once, but no more." He fixes her with an understanding look. "Do not dwell on it. It will only bring you pain if you do. It has no longer happened. I made my peace with it then."

"But you—"

"Sif, I am _alive_," he stresses. "Focus on that."

She gulps in a desperate breath, willing her frantic heart to calm. When she feels marginally more in control, she asks warily, "May I know how you died?"

Thor regards her solemnly for a long moment before stating, "I fell when Vanaheim collapsed. I was holding open a Gate for others to get to safety. I chose to remain so that more might make it through rather than have their deaths on my conscious."

Sif sways where she stands, not in any way prepared for that information. "And what caused Vanaheim to collapse?" she continues, already dreading the answer but something in her demanding to know, if only so she can do everything in her power to prevent it from happening again.

"The Realms were thrown out of alignment during the Convergence. As far as I know, Loki and Evelyn were unable to discover a way to fix it, hence why my brother resorted to Soul Magic when Midgard and Niflheim were all that was left."

That would indeed be a reason to use Soul Magic.

And that's not something she is able to do anything about.

So she concentrates on breathing in and breathing out until she no longer feels like collapsing into a sobbing mess. Mercifully, Thor lets her be, not saying anything else. She's slightly afraid that if he does, she'll be tipped over the edge, and that's the last thing she wants.

"You are taking measures to ensure it does not happen again?" she wants to know. Has to know. Has to be certain that she won't lose her prince a second time, for all that she doesn't remember the first. Just the knowledge that it happened is enough to scare her.

"We will be," Thor assures her. "For now, my brother is mostly concentrating on his wife and when she will arrive. After she comes, he will no doubt throw himself headlong into that particular problem along with a few others."

"And what, exactly, is more important than _that_?" She can't help the sharpness in her question. Her terror, while reduced, still lingers. She doesn't even question the mention of Loki's wife again, for all that she knows Sigyn is dead and has been for four centuries. There's no coming back for her.

"We have twenty years until the Convergence. There is a madman out for Evelyn's blood still alive," Thor explains with a slightly chastising tone. "He is the reason she lost her parents when she was but a babe, and she is Hela's Avatar. Neither my brother or my niece will take kindly to his attempts to murder Evelyn again. It is better to deal with him first before that happens."

Oh.

Thor's not talking about Sigyn.

Loki found another woman. A woman that his daughter apparently approves of.

Then something he says truly registers in her mind.

"What do you mean, attempts to murder her _again_?" she demands, hands tightening into fists as her temper begins to spike.

"Exactly as I said," he replies with deceptive calmness. "He tried to kill her as a babe along with her parents but failed. He will not rest until either she is dead or he is struck down."

Sif inhales sharply through her nose.

That's what she thought he meant.

Her mind is immediately made up. She snaps her heels together and bows to her prince.

"While I might be of no help regarding the Convergence, know that my blade is yours for this. Should you require it, I will guard her with my life."

A grim smile spreads across Thor's lips. "That is good to know, Sif. I do believe you and her will get along quite well."

She nods. "Then I look forward to meeting her." Even if she wonders at the kind of woman who caught Loki's eye this time. Sigyn had been more of a traditional woman, unlike Sif. Still, if Thor thinks they will get along, she will believe him until proven otherwise.

"If Hela is to be believed, then you will be able to meet her soon."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Apologies for how long this last chapter took. I'm attempting to do a weekly update(because deadlines are good for you), but the middle of this chapter just didn't want to be written! On another note, I'm headed for Seattle on Thursday, so I don't know how much I'll manage to get written between now and then.

Giving a shout out to two different fanfics that have helped and influenced how I'm going to be handling the magical Houses. First, A Marauder's Plan by CatsAreCool, and secondly, Families and Familiars by Sherza. Go give those a read as as well, they're pretty good!

Also, a shout out to Harry Crow by robst from whom I got Account Manager Barchoke's name. I've read the fic too much to imagine the account manager with any other name.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Bastardized Soul Magic is a bitch**

Account Manager Barchoke's office is just as she remembers.

The Potter Family crest is embedded into the wood of the door in bronze metal, the motto just below it on a banner in English, for all that is was originally Welsh.

_Honor, loyalty, pride_

In the middle of the crest is the Potter family animal; a rearing peryton with falcon wings spread wide. Evelyn finds it a little funny, given that her father ended up being a stag animagus. She wonders how much of a laugh he had when he discovered that. Something to possibly ask Sirius, once she figures out how to get him out of Azkaban.

Griphook knocks three times on the door before pushing it open. "**Warrior Potter to meet with you, Account Manager,**" he announces, then backs out and bows Evelyn. "**Honor and glory to you, Warrior Potter.**"

"**Wealth and honor to you, Teller Griphook,**" she returns, only dipping her head. Inside the office, she sees Barchoke jolt at her obvious use of his native tongue. She marches in, Dudley still silent at her heels. She stops at the appropriate distance from Barchoke's death and bows, saying, "**Wealth and honor to you, Account Manager Barchoke.**" She straightens to continue. "**My apologies for coming unannounced, but the trip was unexpected.**"

Barchoke stares at her, pen held limply in his hand. Then he seems to come back to himself, because he stands and bows back. "**Honor and glory to you, Warrior Potter.**"

"**No disrespect intended, but may we continue in English? My cousin does not know your language and he will need to understand some of what I wish to cover in our discussion.**"

Barchoke clears his throat. "Of course. I was unaware _you_ knew our language, Warrior Potter."

She can't help that a grin spreads across her lips at his obvious confusion. "I didn't learn it until I was twenty, but having Soul Magic used on you tends to muck with personal timelines."

He blinks. "You are the reason the bank's alarms went off."

"Guilty as charged. King Ragnok took exception to the fact. We sorted it out and now he's having your Curse Breakers looking into making sure I don't do that every time I want visit. That'd be just a bit annoying for all of us."

"Indeed." He clears his throat again, then makes a gesture and two chairs appear in front of his desk. "Sit. It appears we have much to discuss."

Evelyn happily does so, motioning for Dudley to do the same. He gingerly sinks into the chair, eyeing Barchoke warily. "I suppose I ought to do introductions, as you both already know who I am. Dudley, this is Account Manager Barchoke. He's in charge of House Potter's vaults. Account Manager Barchoke, this is my cousin Dudley Vernon Dursley. His mother and mine were sisters."

Barchoke nods. "A Miss Petunia Evans, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah, that's my mum," Dudley says. "How'd you know that?"

"I assume my mum mentioned her once or twice?" Evelyn inquires, looking expectantly at Barchoke.

"She did, although it was more because she wanted to make sure you, Warrior Potter, never ended up in her sister's care. The late Lady Potter was rather adamant on that fact." The goblin frowns. "Yet, you come to me with your cousin by your side."

"Yeah, my so called Magical Guardian decided to tweak the protection spell my mother cast when she saved me and anchored it around my aunt's house. Couldn't put me anywhere else, according to him." Her smile turns grim. "I know that's why he blocked having my parents' final Will read."

Barchoke's expression goes murderous. "Does the old fool understand _nothing?_" he seethes. "Tampering with already cast blood magic is dangerous even for someone of the bloodline! He could have easily killed both you and himself!"

Evelyn sighs, propping her elbow on the arm of the chair and resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "He meant well, for all that he's rather more uninformed than he believes himself to be. The way he worked his additions in made it so that no followers of Riddle could approach the house, thus supposedly ensuring my safety."

"Riddle?"

"Ah, I forgot it's not common knowledge yet." She bares her teeth in a parody of a smile. "Dark Lord Voldemort was born as the half-blood Tom Marvolo Riddle to a Squib mother and muggle father. I rather enjoyed throwing that in his face every time we met. He was Heir Slytherin as well, for all that he truly squandered away _that_ particular asset."

There's a sharp _crack_ as the pen Barchoke had been holding snaps in two. "What, _exactly_, do you mean by throwing that in his face every time you met?" he demands. "The dark one is gone. Because of your mother's sacrifice, he was defeated."

"Key word, _defeated_," Evelyn points out. "Not killed, _defeated_. Dumbledore's a rather good master at word play, given that he used it on himself. He's the Defeater of Grindelwald, hence the locking him up in Nurmengard instead of killing him off. Riddle, the bloody bastard, used—"

She chokes on her next words.

Horcruxes are most definitely Soul Magic, but there's been one sitting in a vault for years now. Not to mention, she managed to walk in multiple times with one lodged in her forehead without setting off the alarms. How any of that's possible, she has no bloody clue.

"Warrior Potter?"

"You've had a Horcrux in your bank for at least ten years now," she says hoarsely.

A moment of stunned silence hangs in the air before Barchoke erupts.

"_**WHAT?! **_**You dare presume—!**"

"**I will swear it on my magic if that's what it takes to make you believe me, but I know for a fact that there is one here, given that I stole it from its vault last time!**" she shouts over him, slamming her hands onto his desk.

This, of course, is not taken well by Barchoke. He hadn't really taken it well the last time either, but then at least he'd understood the terror Riddle had been inspiring and the strangle hold the bloody bastard had had on the country. "**You **_**stole**_**—**"

"**Yes I stole something from Gringotts! That dragon-shite excuse of a wizard had taken over the Ministry and had guards posted all over the bank! Forgive me for not asking nicely if I could just waltz in and take a piece of his fucking soul with me! Furthermore, your shit wards apparently couldn't even detect that I had another piece of his soul lodged in my forehead and I visited **_**multiple**_** times! Explain that to me, you bastard!**" She stands there panting heavily after finishing her tirade, glaring at him while daring him to make any sort of counter. She's already done this with him, so she's fairly certain she can best anything he tries.

"**Which vault?**" Barchoke bites out through clenched teeth.

Evelyn grins viciously. "**Oh, this is actually something I can help with.**" She draws herself upright and loosens the hold she's been keeping on her magic as a courtesy. This is one of those times the paranoia of House Black is actually helpful. "As Heiress Presumptive Evelyn Rosalie of House Black, I demand payment from House Lestrange for allowing Lady Bellatrix Druella of House Lestrange, formerly of House Black, to pledge her life and soul to someone other than Lord Black." Snapping her fingers, a replica of Helga Hufflepuff's cup appears on his desk. "Take only this and I will consider the payment from House Lestrange to House Black at least partially paid. As I say, so mote it be." The oath snaps into place and her magic pulses with dark satisfaction, as pleased as she is. "A soul for a soul. Rather poetic, actually."

"If you are lying…" Barchoke trails off, apparently unable to come up with a suitable threat.

"And what, exactly, would I gain by lying about this?" she asks, settling back down in her chair. "The last thing I want is to be on Gringotts' bad side. Did that once already, would rather not repeat the experience." A glance to her right shows Dudley pale white, wide eyes darting nervously between her and Barchoke. She'd gotten so sucked up in her argument with Barchoke that she'd forgotten that he wouldn't have a clue what they were going on about, only that they were shouting rather heatedly back and forth. "Sorry, Dud. I really didn't mean to subject you to all that."

He startles violently at suddenly being addressed. "We're not going to get kicked out?" he squeaks, hurriedly clearing his throat right afterwards as his cheeks flush red.

"No, we're not," she assures him. "Just having a discussion about other soul pieces that bastard Riddle hid away, specifically the one here at the bank."

"Some discussion," he mumbles back, tugging absentmindedly at the hem of his shirt.

"It's Soul Magic, cousin," she says. "It's Soul Magic and that piece never once set off the bank's alarms. Nor did the one I had in my forehead, for that matter."

Dudley shudders. "I'd really rather forget about that one, thanks."

"You have one in your _forehead_?" Barchoke demands.

Evelyn waves a hand through the air. "Don't worry about that one. It's been taken care of."

Barchoke stands up, expression torn between thunderous and horrified. "You do not simply _take care_ of a Horcrux in a living vessel, you need to be seen by our Healers—"

"Account Manager Barchoke," she cuts him off, "believe me when I say that it has been dealt with. Again, I will swear on my magic if that's what it'll take to get you to believe it, but that piece of Riddle's soul is far beyond his reach." She fixes him with a flat look. "Or is the fact that it's in Lady Hela's possession not good enough for you?"

He abruptly sits back down. "Lady Hela?"

"Of Helheim," she adds blandly. "I'm her Avatar here on Midgard, so it makes sense that she wouldn't want a piece of a murderer's soul stuck in my forehead."

"Wait, so that winged woman from last night worked for Hela?" Dudley asks, his voice only slightly catching on Hela's name.

Evelyn scowls, disliking the unknown woman for all that she instinctively trusted her the night before. That instinctive trust, whenever it happens, puts her on edge until she figures out _why_ she trusts the person. Unfortunately, she doesn't think she'll be getting an answer to that any time soon. "I assume so. Her magic felt familiar for all that I've never seen her before in my life. Hela never mentioned having any Valkyrie working for her before, but what do I know? We never really talked anyways. She just grabbed me and dumped me into her father's lap. I only ever saw her sparingly after that, and it was always on her terms."

The clearing of a throat draws her attention back to Barchoke.

"Warrior Potter, I give you my word that we will discuss whatever it is you wish to discuss before you leave today, but first—"

"You'd like to do something about the Horcrux?" she finishes for him with a knowing expression. She doesn't exactly blame him. She'd practically begged for the one in her forehead to be removed, after all.

"Indeed. To know we have such vileness here?" Barchoke shudders. "If you would be willing to accompany me to the Lestrange Vault, I imagine the process will go much more swiftly than if I went by myself."

"It would give me great pleasure to see that filthy piece of shit dealt with," she says, sliding gracefully out of her chair. "Dudley, do you want to come with or wait here? We shouldn't be too long either way."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd _really_ rather stay here," Dudley answers. "Excitement seems to follow you everywhere and I'd like to avoid anymore, thanks."

Evelyn can't help throwing her head back and laughing. "I hate break it to you, cousin, but these past two days have been rather mild, considering what I grew up with and experienced later in life."

He scowls at her. "That's something I could've gladly gone without knowing, Eve."

"It's something you'll have to learn to deal with if you plan on sticking around!" she sings before following Barchoke out of his office. She lets the silence that falls over them settle, not wanting to intrude on any thoughts Barchoke is trying to process. She _has_, unintentional though it was, heaped a bunch onto his plate rather abruptly. Best to let him deal with at his own pace.

However, he did stop them briefly when they crossed paths with some guards.

"**Have King Ragnok and Account Manager Bogrod meet us at Vault 238 without delay,**" he instructs. "**Along with any high level Curse Breakers King Ragnok deems necessary given the magicks Warrior Potter has.**"

"**At once, Account Manager Barchoke.**" They both bow to him, then bow to her. "**Warrior Potter.**" And with that, they turn and jog off to other parts of the bank while she and Barchoke make for the mine carts.

"Oh bother, we're going to go under that stupid waterfall, aren't we?" she grumbles under her breath. She only just remembered the waterfall they'd had to go through to get to the Lestrange vault. The bloody thing had nearly undone all their hard work to get into Gringotts in the first place!

"I take it you're acquainted with Thief's Downfall?" Barchoke inquires as he queues up a cart.

"We had to ride the dragon you've got by the Lestrange vault to get out of the bank," she returns blandly, easily maneuvering herself into one of the seats. "Caused a bit of an uproar, mind you, but we needed a quick out."

Barchoke pauses as he makes to follow her into the cart. "You rode—?" He shakes his head. "And we still let you back in?"

Evelyn snorts, giving him a wry smile while he settles into the seat beside the controls. "Believe me, I was just as surprised. Of course, I ended up giving all the remaining contents of the Lestrange vault over to Gringotts as payment for the damages we'd done." The cart starts moving and Evelyn's smile becomes rather vicious. "Handy thing, pureblood marriage contracts. Everything House Lestrange owned became the property of House Black because Lord Lestrange failed in his duties regarding both Lady Lestrange as a Black bride, and House Black as a whole. Primacy and House Black's ingrained superiority are wonderful, useful things. Of course, I almost wished the bloody bastards had still been alive for me to cast House Judgement on them by the time I finally got around to learning my duties as Lady Potter and Lady Black, but House Longbottom was satisfied with their manner of deaths. I settled the debt of honor House Lestrange made between House Black and House Longbottom another way." Here she pauses in her chattering to scowl at the rapidly approaching waterfall. "If this thing sets off any sort of alarm because of me, I'm going to be so bloody _pissed_."

Barchoke gets no time to respond to her comment before they're dunked under the water. They're out from under it just as quickly, and Evelyn has to resist the urge to shake her head like a dog from all the water now in her hair. She does wipe a hand over her face to get the excess water off, grimacing at the feel of wet clothes now on her. Thankfully, this time the cart doesn't slow to a stop, sound an alarm, and proceed to dump them off the tracks.

Small mercies.

"Well, that was as unpleasant as I remembered," she mutters, debating whether or not to either try and squeeze out some of the water in her clothes, or attempt a warming charm and pray it doesn't backfire on her. Instead, the seat under her warms unexpectedly and abruptly she's dry all over. She blinks once, twice, then just decides to go with it. She's seen and experienced far weirder things.

When they finally pull up at a familiar platform, Ragnok is already waiting there with three other goblins. "**You'd better have a good reason for calling all of us here, Barchoke,**" he warns, a hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

Evelyn answers before Barchoke can, pointing a finger towards the dragon and the vault. "**There is a Horcrux in that vault that's been there for ten years at least,**" she states bluntly, ignoring the way the unknown goblins almost jump at her usage of their language. "**Given that Horcruxes are most definitely Soul Magic, yet it has not set off any alarms, we figured it prudent to deal with it now rather than wait for a more convenient time.**" She holds up her other hand to stop the eruption she already knows is coming. "**Yes, I am certain of this. I am here to claim it as Heiress Presumptive of House Black, where I will then turn it over to you for disposal. Magic has agreed. Do you?**"

A relative silence descends, the usual noises of the bank above them echoing through the caverns. Ragnok and Barchoke look reasonably calm; Barchoke because he's already heard it, and Ragnok probably because he knows she's had Soul Magic used on her. The other goblins look torn between horror at the idea of a Horcrux in their bank and indignation at an unknown witch speaking their native tongue.

"**There will be consequences if you are wrong, Warrior Potter,**" Ragnok warns, causing the goblins beside him to stare at him with wide eyes.

Evelyn bares her teeth. "**Oh believe me, I am well aware of that. In any event, you won't know if I'm right or wrong until we go retrieve the cup. Shall we?**"

* * *

Dudley is starting to get a little worried about how long the retrieval is taking when the door to the office slams open again and Evelyn stumbles back in supported between who he thinks are her account manager and the goblin king himself. She, honest to God, looks a little green in the face. She drops heavily into the chair she'd sat in previously, one hand pressed to her lips and the other coming to rest over her stomach.

Her account manager immediately goes to his desk, pulling out a vial filled with a bright blue liquid that he hands to her. "Here, drink this." She downs it without hesitation, although she pulls a truly disgusted looking face afterwards. "My apologies for the delay, Mr. Dursley, but we ran into a bit of a…situation."

"A situation, he calls it," Evelyn grumbles, appearing only mildly better. She tips her head back and proceeds to spew out every curse under the sun, slipping into languages Dudley only barely recognizes and some he doesn't, before summing it up with, "Bloody fucking _Horcruxes_."

Dudley blinks at her, then hesitantly asks, "Did something happen?" He asks even though he knows something most certainly did happen, what with the state his cousin is in. Apparently, excitement found them again.

"Ha!" Evelyn barks out bitterly. "We found out that while Horcruxes are definitely Soul Magic, they're actually a truly nasty bastardized form of it. Hence why no alarms were ever set off. And joy of joys, when the bastardized version comes close to whole Soul Magic, the person with the whole Soul Magic in them is so revolted by the vileness of the bastardized version that they proceed to be violently ill so long as their magic can feel it nearby."

Dudley winces. He vividly remembers that Evelyn is not the best of patients while sick. He thinks it's a combination of her sheer stubbornness coupled with the fact that she was training to be a wizard doctor as well. And everyone knows that doctors are the worst sort of patients. "Did you at least manage to get the Horcrux thingy out of the vault?"

"We did indeed, and my Curse Breakers are working to both extract the soul piece and change our wards to prevent something like this from happening again," King Ragnok intones. Then he slips into the nonsense language all goblins and Evelyn seem to know. His cousin smiles back weakly, replying in the same tongue. The king then turns to her account manager, barking something out. Barchoke responds by bowing and murmuring something back. The king nods decisively before turning on his heel and marching out of the office.

Evelyn groans softly, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I would give up all the gold in every single one of my vaults to never have to experience that again. Stars, that was awful."

"Warrior Potter, do you still feel up to discussing what you wish to be prepared for our meeting on July 31?" Barchoke inquires.

"Yeah, I think I can manage that so long as we don't attempt to go too in depth," she says. "I'll probably eat and immediately collapse once we get back to our room, though, so fair warning Dud."

He shrugs. "So long as I don't have to carry you, I'm good with that."

"Right, first thing's first." Evelyn shifts so she's facing Barchoke head on. "I'll need paperwork to transfer control of Vault 964 over to Dudley, as well as paperwork to make him a ward of House Potter. If I have to end up transfering all of the money over to a Muggle bank, then so be it, but he gets everything in that vault. I think Mum would approve."

"Wait, what?" Dudley yelps, realizing that Evelyn is talking about giving him money, and it's probably a lot. "Eve, you—"

"Dudley, you're an Evans as much as you're a Dursley," she cuts him off. "All the money in Vault 964 is money that my mum earned. I think she'd like the fact that it's going to help her nephew piss off her sister. I'm not going to budge, so don't even bother trying."

He scowls at her. "And that making me a ward of House Potter?"

"I'd make you a member, but too many people would raise a stink about you being Heir Potter without having any Potter blood, so we're just not going to go down that path. However, making you my ward means I am legally and magically obligated to provide housing and schooling for you until adulthood. Also means I can shut up any old timers who object to my helping out a Muggle so much by pointing out that if they want me to follow the old ways so much, then they can't protest my caring for someone under my protection." She sniffs haughty. "You left your home for me, cousin mine. Don't think I won't repay that."

"I'm not going to be able to change your mind on that either, am I?"

She smirks at him, and he has to resist the urge to gulp. "You're welcome to try. You have until my birthday to convince me otherwise."

Yeah, no, he's not stupid. Guess that means he has until her birthday to get used to the idea. He's very much aware that once she's set her mind to something, he is not one of the few people capable of making her change it.

"Secondly, Barchoke, I need a letter of invitation for Remus John Lupin drafted inviting him to the bank on July 31, but for you to wait to send it until a week before. If you get a positive reply, then I'm going to need paperwork ready to make Remus Head Retainer and Steward of House Potter. I'll convince the stupid wolf to say yes somehow. I have a month to figure it out. Oh! Also figure out a way to set up a lifetime payment plan of the Wolfsbane Potion for him. That will be activated regardless of whether or not he agrees to be my steward.

"Thirdly, I need you to start looking into how we can go about getting my godfather, Sirius Black, out of Azkaban. He's not had a trial, but he's been in there for ten years regardless, and I would really rather he didn't stay there any longer." Evelyn falls silent then, lips pursed.

Barchoke nods, shuffling a few papers around. "I shall endeavour to have everything ready when you return, Warrior Potter. Should you think of anything else you require done, just contact the bank via owl."

Evelyn huffs out a breath. "Probably for the best, I'm fading faster than I thought I would."

"You were supposed to take it easy today," Dudley reminds her.

"Hence why we're going to head back before I decide to sleep the rest of the day away in this chair," she grumbles. "Barchoke, do I need to stay any longer? King Ragnok said something about having the Curse Breakers making sure the alarms to go blaring every time I try to visit, but I'm afraid I might actually fall asleep if I have to wait any longer."

"I believe, Warrior Potter, that you leaving without informing King Ragnok can be forgiven this once," Barchoke says almost kindly. "He is aware of the strain placed on you today, and while we might be a warrior race, we are not unfeeling. I will inform him myself of your departure and reasons. I merely request you send an owl before you approach the bank again so we might be prepared for your arrival."

"Thank you," she breathes, slumping slightly before perking back up. "Oh! Can I withdraw anything from my trust vault right now?"

Barchoke fixes her with a look. "Within reason."

"I just want enough money to be able to pay for another week at the Leaky Cauldron for safety's sake."

"That I can certainly authorize." He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a drawstring bag. "That should cover any expenses."

Evelyn speaks in that weird language again, inclining her head respectfully to Barchoke who responds in kind. Then she slides out of her chair, grabs the bag, and finally turns to face him. "Come on, Dud, I'm exhausted and I wasn't kidding about falling asleep in that chair. Should also see if I can manage to eat something before I sleep for the rest of the day for all that my stomach isn't too keen on the idea."

"Alright, alright. Goodbye Mr Barchoke." Without thinking, he offers his hand for the goblin to shake. To his credit, Barchoke only stares for a moment before taking it.

"Goodbye to you as well, Mr Dursley. Do look after our Warrior Potter, will you?"

"As much as I can, anyways." Then, before he can lose his nerve, he turns smartly on his heel and follows Evelyn out of the office and out of the bank.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Home is where the heart is**

"Eve!"

The sound of Dudley calling her name while poking her once in the side draws Evelyn from the dream she's been floating in, but doesn't fully wake her up. She's too busy enjoying the fact that her magic isn't screaming at her about danger everywhere to even start to consider moving unless she has to.

Of course, then Dudley prods her again and says, "Eve, get up!" in just a frantic enough tone that she's bolting upright before she even registers moving. Battle time instincts suck when you're trying to sleep in.

She blinks rapidly, hands poised to deal with whatever threat has her cousin so worried, only to find absolutely nothing out of place. "_Dudley Vernon Dursley_," she snarls, not at all pleased to be woken up like that when there's no threat.

Surprisingly, he's not affected by her tone's promise of pain. Instead, he just points to the table the elf had left in their room yesterday. "Something's wrong!" he insists.

Evelyn shoots him a incredulous look that he doesn't see, but makes her feel better, before glancing back at the table. There are two envelopes sitting one on top of the other, along with a package wrapped in twine. "We got letters," she deadpans, briefly contemplating hitting her cousin with a muffling Charm and trying to get some more sleep even though she knows it's a lost cause. She's awake, for better or for worse.

"Eve, one's from _Hogwarts_," Dudley stresses, gesturing wildly.

She rubs tiredly at one of her eyes, adrenaline fading with no threat. "And is that supposed to mean something to me? Maybe they just sent mine earlier this time."

"It's addressed to _me!_" he yelps.

_That_ gets her attention. Her gaze snaps back to the letters, and she can vaguely make out the familiar handwriting that all Hogwarts letters sport on one. Slipping off the bed, she pads over to be able to look closer. Sure enough, it's addressed like a Hogwarts letter as well.

_Mr D. Dursley_

_Bed By the Window_

_Room 319 Leaky Cauldron _

_Charing Cross Road_

_London_

When she flips it over, the school's crest is proudly stamped onto the envelope.

"Bloody hell," she mutters.

"What did you _do?_" Dudley hisses, apparently having decided not to leave the relative safety of the bed.

"And what, exactly, do you think I _can_ do?" she demands, waving the letter at him threateningly. "I'm not bloody in charge of deciding who gets invited to Hogwarts or not!"

"Well I didn't get one of those letters last time!" he protests, "And you already mucked other things up, so why not this too?"

"I think I'd remember you being at Hogwarts with me, thanks," she throws back indignantly, "and I haven't mucked anything up!" She pauses and reconsiders that statement. "Okay, I've mucked with quite a few things. However! _This_—" She waves the letter again, "—this is beyond anything I'm capable of. I can't just bloody give someone magic, and last I checked, cousin, you can't do magic."

"On that, we're in agreement," he grumbles.

Evelyn huffs, but looks down at the letter again. "Well, I guess we'll just have to check, then," she sighs, recalling the time Loki tested all the members of their team for magical potential. He'd lit a magical flame and passed it to each teammate before cutting off the flow of his magic to it. She, Natasha, Wanda, and surprisingly Tony had managed to keep their flames going. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any time for Tony to learn anything useful before he'd died. She'd still had Loki teach her the spell, if only so she could say she could do it too.

"And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?"

A snap of her fingers has that same flame dancing in the palm of her hand. "I'm going to give you this and we'll see what happens."

Dudley looks at her like she's nuts. "Eve, that's _fire_."

She just smirks right back. "Dudley, it's _magical_ fire. It won't hurt you, trust me."

He stares at her for a long moment. "I feel like that's the source of half my problems, me trusting you." Regardless, he holds out a hand for all that he looks like he'd rather not.

Instead of teasing him, Evelyn gently passes over the flame. Dudley's eyes go wide as it licks harmlessly at his fingers. While he's focused on it, Evelyn cuts off her flow of magic. The flame stutters briefly, but then continues to flicker away merrily in the palm of Dudley's hand.

"Well, fuck."

Dudley's head immediately snaps up. "What? What's wrong?"

"Congratulations, Dudley, you're a wizard," she drawls sarcastically

There's a beat of silence and then, "_WHAT?!_" The flame sputters out now that his attention is no longer on it.

"Like hell if I know!" She throws her hands up in the air. "You kept the flame going all by yourself, so congrats, you have magic." Unlike with Tony and Natasha, though, his flame had remained strong and steady. Theirs had reduced dramatically in size, letting Evelyn and Loki know that while they _did_ have magic, it wasn't much. Most likely only enough to do simple spells and brew potions. "I guess you get to come to Hogwarts with me this time." She sighs, raking a hand through her hair. "Well, at least now I won't have to transfer all your money over to a Muggle bank. I'll just make that vault your trust vault."

"Eve!"

"Of course, you could also go to either Ilvermorny or Beauxbatons, but you'd have to learn French for Beauxbatons and two months is _not_ enough time to learn a new language," she continues. "So it's either Hogwarts of Ilvermorny, then."

"Who says I'm even going to a bloody magical school?" Dudley demands.

Evelyn blinks, then fixes Dudley with a stern look. "You're going. Leaving your magic untrained is dangerous to both you and the rest of the world. You saw what I did to Marge because she got me angry. That was with only two years of training behind me. I could've blown apart the entire block had I been passed my majority and she'd gotten me angry enough."

Dudley's face goes pale white. "Good God," he whispers. Evelyn's fairly certain if he wasn't still on the bed he'd be abruptly sitting down in one of the chairs.

"While I doubt you'd be able to manage something of that magnitude, even after your majority, the warning is still important. Either you go to a wizarding school or we look into having your magic bound." She holds up a hand before Dudley can go with that option. "I've been told it's a very unpleasant sensation to have it bound. Don't go immediately say yes without learning anything else."

"It's weird hearing you sound so grown up when you're so little," he mutters mulishly, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

Evelyn cocks an eyebrow back. "Well, it's just as weird for me hearing you sound pleasant and nice when you're so _wide_."

"Buggering shite, I'm going to have to work off all this extra bloody fat _again_," Dudley grouces, looking very put out with the idea.

"We'll work on getting healthier again together, cousin," Evelyn assures him, already knowing she's going to absolutely hate whatever training regiment Loki will come up with to get her back into shape. Oh, it will work wonders for her, but she'll be cursing every deity she knows while doing it. "Now take your stupid Hogwarts letter and actually look at it. I promise it won't bite." She thrusts it into his hands and lets go before he can shove it back her. Leaving her cousin sputtering at her, she turns back to the table and the remaining letter, deciding to deal with the package after that. On the envelope, her name is written out in very sophisticated looking handwriting that she doesn't recognize.

_Evelyn Rosalie Potter_

"Well that tells me next to nothing," she mumbles to herself, flipping the envelope over and finding no further hints as to what might be inside. She slides a finger under the flap and rips the letter open. It's not a long letter, but she does recognize the signature at the bottom.

_Evelyn,_

_While there is much more you might be able to accomplish by remaining on Midgard for longer, my father is most anxious in his waiting for your arrival on Asgard. Meet me at Stonehenge with your cousin at noon and I will transport the two of you to Asgard myself. Heimdall has been warned we are not coming via the Bifrost. I also took the liberty of having my Valkyrie provide clothing for the both of you more befitting Asgardian styles. The cloaks you received yesterday will serve to cover you until you arrive._

_Hela_

"I _knew_ she was a Valkyrie!" Evelyn hisses triumphantly. That still doesn't explain why she immediately trusted the woman, but it's nice to know she was right about that particular fact. Maybe because their magic was similar? Evelyn mentally waves the thought away, no time really to dwell on it right now.

"What are you going on about?" Dudley asks.

"That woman from two nights ago? She _is_ a Valkyrie!" she exclaims, waving her letter happily. "Hela confirmed my suspicion."

Dudley blinks at her. "Hela? You got a letter from _Hela_?"

Evelyn rolls her eyes right back at him "I'm her Avatar, Dud, of course she's going to communicate with me. I much prefer a letter to her randomly grabbing me and dumping me places. At least a letter might have a warning about what she's going to want me to do or what she's going to do to me. Speaking of." She points to the package. "Apparently we're to get ourselves to Stonehenge by noon, so we've been given clothing so we don't stick out when we get to Asgard."

"Wait, what? Who said anything about going Asgard today?" Dudley protests.

"Hela has," Evelyn returns a touch dryly. "Hence the letter. Unless you'd rather not go along with a request from the Goddess of Death?"

"Why'd she even _mention_ me?" he whines, "I'm not anyone important."

Evelyn shrugs. "My best guess, and it's a guess mind you, is that because you're with me, she's just being courteous and not making me abandon you here for however long I end up staying in Asgard. I'll be coming back before the summer's over for school supplies and to square things away with the bank once I'm able, but I've no idea when exactly Loki will be willing to let me go to do that." In all honesty, she knows he's probably going to tag along with her for all of it. She can't imagine that he'll be willing to let her out of his sight very much these next few months.

"Great," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Great, fantastic."

"If you really don't want to come with, I can see if I can work something out so you have a room here for the summer," she offers.

He sighs heavily. "No, no I'll come with. Just thought I'd have more than a single bloody day to try and wrap my head around the fact that you apparently married _Loki_. I'll make due, don't worry."

* * *

They end up taking the Knight Bus to Stonehenge, as they have any British pounds between the two of them, but Evelyn does have the wizarding money that was going to be for booking their room longer. Also, the two hour trip is cut down to an hour because magical transportation doesn't have to follow Muggle road laws. They do take Hela's advice of wearing their cloaks, as Evelyn realized that their clothing would be weird even by wizarding standards, and the last thing either of them wants to do is draw attention to themselves. Well, anymore attention than asking to be dropped off at Stonehenge has.

Despite it rapidly approaching noon, the stones are still shrouded in mist and the crowds relatively thin. Evelyn starts looking for golden hair, figuring Hela will have her skeletal half spelled not to show. A pulse of magic ripples through the air, immediately catching her attention.

"This way." She grabs ahold of Dudley's hand and proceeds to drag him off in the direction she felt the magic come from. Sure enough, Hela's hair is completely golden. Evelyn stops them a few feet away and bows. "Lady Hela."

"Hello, Avatar mine," the Goddess of Death returns. "Are you ready to depart?"

"As we'll ever be," Evelyn replies, squeezing Dudley's hand reassuringly when he presses closer to her.

"Then let us be off." Hela holds out a hand, which Evelyn takes. It feels like her skeletal one, for all that it appears covered in flesh. "Walk with me and do not stray off the path." When Hela takes that first step forward, Evelyn follows and the world melts away around them. Unlike how Loki and Thor described traveling via the Bifrost, it's what Evelyn remembers as Loki took them between Realms. Pressing darkness all around save for the illuminated pathway they walk on. The muffling silence is just as disconcerting.

"Just focus on the path, Dudley," Evelyn murmurs as he has her hand nearly in a death grip. A muffled whimper is his only reply. She dearly hopes he doesn't stare too long out into the darkness, but she doesn't dare turn around to check. She mentally kicks herself for not having prepared him for this, but she'd honestly forgotten.

Thankfully, the darkness is banished away as they step out onto a golden floor. Evelyn lets go of Hela's hand but doesn't make Dudley do the same. She does glance back briefly to check on him, but she's pretty sure the shell shock is from seeing Asgard for the first time, not the pathway.

"Princess, welcome back to Asgard," a deep voice intones, drawing Evelyn attention. Standing up on a circular dias right next to a sword stuck in a pedestal is a tall, dark skinned man. He's wearing golden armor and is smiling at Hela.

"It is good to be back, Heimdall," Hela replies as her enchantment fades away, revealing her usual state of half human, half skeleton. "Has my Valkyrie arrived yet?"

"She is approaching now, but perhaps you will introduce me to your companions as we wait?" Heimdall requests with a raised eyebrow.

Hela throws her head back and laughs. "As if you need introductions, Heimdall! However, I'll gladly indulge you. May I present my Avatar and my father's wife, Lady Evelyn Rosalie of House Potter, House Black, House Gryffindor, and House Slytherin. She is accompanied by her cousin Dudley Vernon Dursley. Evelyn, this is Lord Heimdall Tyrson, Guardian of the Bifrost, Gatekeeper of Asgard, and Watcher of the Worlds."

"Hmm, so you are the one who caused so much chaos at the palace without even needing to be here," Heimdall muses, fixing Evelyn with a knowing look.

Evelyn can't help her cheeks flushing. Whoops. "Potter Luck is known to be rather eccentric, but I'd honestly hoped Loki had been spared it. I guess not."

"Indeed. However, I look forward to the changes you will bring to Asgard and her Royal Family."

Well, no pressure there. Although, she doesn't quite understand what he means by that last statement. It's not like she can easily teach Thor to be humble again. It took him falling in love with a mortal woman last time for that to happen. Although, maybe if she knocks him flat on his ass enough times…

"Ah, there they are!" Hela exclaims happily. Walking into what Evelyn's pretty sure is the Observatory are the winged woman from two nights previous, a dark grey eight-legged horse that's back is higher than her measly 140 cm, and a wolf about the size of the horse.

Sleipnir and Fenrir.

Loki's other children in all but blood.

Sleipnir goes to Hela for attention, but Fenrir prowls up to her.

_You think yourself worthy to be the mate of my father?_ a male voice rumbles inside her head while Fenrir growls low in his chest. _Even if Sister Hela has chosen you as her Avatar, that does not give you the right to lie in my father's bed._

Evelyn draws in a steadying breathe before levelly meeting Fenrir's gaze. Behind her, Dudley makes a frightened noise and she can feel him press up against her back, but she has to ignore him in favor of the wolf. "I do not worry over my worth. Despite all that has happened to us and to him, he chooses me still. Do you not trust your father's judgement?"

_There have been many who would use him simply in an attempt to gain favor with the other Royals,_ Fenrir snarls, baring his teeth. _Who is to say that you will not do the same?_

"And yet there are those back on Midgard who would do the same to me," she snaps back, heedless of their audience. "When I met your father, wolf, he had _nothing_. I watched him fall further than I believed possible before I finally reached him and was able to pull him back up. Do _not_ presume to know our story before you judge me. I have faced down the madman who murdered my parents and stood defiantly against the Dark Elves as the Realms fell to pieces around me. There is _nothing_ in all the Realms save death that could keep me from his side!"

She lets out an undignified yelp as Fenrir proceeds to lick her face.

_You will do quite nicely,_ the wolf pronounces. _I like you better than Sigyn._

"Joy," she mutters, fighting off the urge to try and wipe away the slobber left on her face. She realizes she'll do nothing more than just smear it around.

Sleipnir approaches now, shaking his head. _Fen, you left her all wet._

Hela chuckles and waves a hand in Evelyn's direction, cleaning off the slobber. "Does that suit you better, Nir?"

_It does indeed._ Sleipnir lowers his head so he and Evelyn are eye to eye. _I do not need you to prove yourself. You have Sister Hela's approval and Father's. That is enough for me._

Evelyn inclines her head. "Thank you, Sleipnir. I do look forward to getting to know both you and Fenrir, though. Loki told me stories, but I never was actually able to meet either of you."

_You are to stay at the palace?_ he asks.

"I assume so," she smiles wryly. "I can't really imagine Loki will let me stay anywhere else once he realizes I've arrived."

"On that topic." The Valkyrie steps forward this time. Held in her outstretched hand is a simple looking pendant. "A present for you, Evelyn Rosalie Potter. What you seek to accomplish will be hindered at times by the fact that you are physically eleven. This pendant is the result of many years of spell crafting. It will allow you the appearance of your true age for brief amounts of time depending on where you are." Evelyn inhales sharply, realizing the implications of what she's offering. "While the illusion will be physical to touch, it will not change your hormones. Here on Asgard, you will be allowed a full twelve hours. On Midgard, a mere six. However, it will take seven days at least to recharge the pendant if you are on Asgard and a minimum of fourteen if you remain on Midgard." She presses the pendant into Evelyn's hand.

"This…this is…" Evelyn trails off, unable to come up with words to express her gratitude at such a gift.

"It is a gift freely given," the Valkyrie says kindly before turning her eyes to beyond Evelyn. "Unfortunately, Dudley Vernon Dursley, your magic is not strong enough to support a similar pendant."

"That's fine!" Dudley squeaks behind her. "I'm good! I'm so good!"

"Are you okay, Dud?" Evelyn asks, turning to face him. He still appears rather shell shocked.

He gives her a deadpan look. "Ask me that again in a week."

Fair enough. Asgard can be overwhelming the first time you arrive. She'd gawked for all that she'd just been dumped in a prison cell at first. She'd gawked even more when they'd been running around after the Dark Elves.

Drawing in a deep breath, Evelyn places the pendant chain around her neck and fastens it closed. The instant she does, she feels the magic in the pendant start to cover her body. It's disorienting, so she closes her eyes until she feels the magic settle. When she opens them again, she's a good head and a half taller than her near eleven year old self is. Her clothes, thankfully, have resized along with her.

"This will be so immensely helpful," she murmurs, flexing her hand experimentally.

"Well done," Hela intones, resting a hand on the Valkyrie's shoulder. The woman simply inclines her head back. "Avatar mine, here is where I will leave you. Should I require you for anything, I will give you ample warning so as to not alarm my father. Heimdall, till later."

"Asgard's blessings go with you, Princess," Heimdall returns, bowing his head to her before she and the Valkyrie step into the open portal and vanish from sight.

_Do you intend to dally here much longer, or do you wish to seek out Father?_ Sleipnir asks, nudging Evelyn's shoulder gently.

"Could you find him easily?" With the marriage bond between them in shreds, she's not certain she'd be able to find him in a reasonable amount of time, and the last thing she wants to do is wander around Asgard right now.

_Of course, he is our father,_ Fenrir huffs as if insulted.

_That is why we came,_ Sleipnir snorts, bobbing his head up and down.

She smiles and reaches out to stroke Sleipnir's neck. "It's much appreciated. I know how much he can worry."

_He does love to worry,_ the horse agrees. _If you like, you may ride me so that we might get to Father all the quicker._

The offer is amazing, as Evelyn recalls Loki telling her that the stallion is rather picky about who he allows to ride him. "Thank you, Sleipnir."

_Fen, you will carry her kin?_ Sleipnir continues, turning his head to look expectantly at the wolf. _You are able to be a more reasonable size than I._

_Just this once,_ the wolf grumbles, somehow managing to produce a stink eye that he levels at Sleipnir. The stallion, of course, isn't at all fazed by the look. Evelyn can't help chuckling as Fenrir pads back over to her and Dudley, shrinking in size with every step he takes. He flops down at Evelyn's feet, appearing extremely put out.

"Thank you, Fenrir," she murmurs, reaching down to run a hand through the wolf's fur. He huffs out a breath but his irritation seems to settle a little. "Dudley, want any help getting on?"

"And why exactly am _I_ the one riding the wolf?" he complains.

_My _name_ is Fenrir, boy,_ Fenrir growls, baring his teeth slightly. Evelyn hears Dudley gulp at the sight. It is a bit intimidating, all those teeth.

"You're riding Fenrir, cousin, because you're a little too short to be climbing up onto Sleipnir," Evelyn says a touch dryly. "Unless you'd like to attempt to?" She waves a hand towards the stallion whose back her head only now reaches at her short 165 cm height. Again, she's really hoping to maybe gain a few more centimeters if she starts eating better now.

Dudley scowls while he crosses his arms. "I'd just fall off and hurt myself, wouldn't I?"

_Most certainly, little human,_ Sleipnir agrees. _Perhaps when you are taller._

"Again, Dudley, want any help?" Evelyn asks one more time, starting to get impatient now that the offer to take her to Loki has been made. She'd been relatively fine up until then.

Her cousins sighs. "Yeah, probably a good idea. I'd rather not fall flat on my face trying on my own."

"Fenrir, are you ready?" Evelyn inquires just to be courteous.

_Just get this over with,_ he gripes back. Evelyn wastes no more time, grabbing Dudley and depositing him onto Fenrir's back. She holds him steady as Fenrir gets to his feet, making sure he has a firm handful of fur to hold onto before turning to Sleipnir.

Heimdall has stepped down from his dias and is standing beside the stallion. "I will help you mount, Lady Potter," he says.

She smiles at him. "Just Evelyn is fine, Gatekeeper." With his help, she's boosted up onto Sleipnir's back. She twists her fingers through his mane, suddenly very grateful for Draco making her take riding lessons as part of learning to be a proper Lady Potter. Otherwise, there's no way she'd be able to ride Sleipnir without a saddle or bridle. Still, it's exhilarating to feel such a powerful horse between her legs again. Even as the stallion just shifts his weight back and forth, she can feel the strength in his muscles he has coiled up tightly. Horseback riding, she'd quickly discovered, was nearly as freeing as racing her broom through the clouds.

"Then you may call me Heimdall," the man returns, patting her leg once before backing away. "Safe travels to you, Evelyn Rosalie Potter."

Unable to help herself, she offers a wicked and wild smile that reflects the frantic pounding of her heart. Then, it only takes a touch of her heels and Sleipnir is turning to charge out of the Observatory and onto the Rainbow Bridge. With the wind blowing in her face and the feel of Sleipnir's muscles rippling smoothly between her legs, it's the freest Evelyn's felt in years. She throws her head back and laughs, tossing the sound out to the winds.

They meet no resistance upon reaching the end of the Rainbow Bridge and Sleipnir heads directly towards the towering golden palace Evelyn's only really seen the prison of. People dart out of the way as they go thundering by, Sleipnir's head thrown high and ears pricked forward.

_He is at the training grounds again,_ Fenrir announces. Sleipnir corrects himself only slightly, turning his path to the left minutely. The buildings progressively get thinner and thinner until there's nothing but open field to both sides and stretching out before them. Now Fenrir draws level with Sleipnir as the stallion starts to slow, and Evelyn can't help laughing again at how windswept Dudley looks clinging to the wolf's back.

Fenrir abruptly throws his head back and howls, long and loud. Evelyn can feel her heart leap up into her throat as two figures in the distance turn at the sound. The gleam of golden armor catches her eye, and she's sliding off Sleipnir's back before she even realizes she's moving.

"Loki!" she screams, racing across the training ground towards her husband. He stands frozen as if he can't believe he's seeing her before stumbling forward a few steps. Once he's started moving he's sprinting towards her.

They crash into each other, Loki's arms going around her waist to lift her up and twirl her around before they go tumbling to the ground. She's crying and clinging to him while he buries his face in her hair, arms tightening to hold her close.

"You're here," he whispers hoarsely, magic shrouding them protectively. "You're _here_."

"I'm here," she replies, twining her magic with his. It grounds her and him, if only slightly. It lets them both know that the other is _there_. "I'm here, love, I'm here."

His grip on her tightens even more before he relaxes his hold so he's no longer crushing her to his chest. A hand makes its way up so it's tangled in her hair. "I thought I was going to have to wait even longer before you came."

Evelyn laughs through her tears. "Hela apparently decided I needed to come to Asgard now. She just brought us to Asgard and Sleipnir and Fenrir brought us to you."

Loki retreats only just enough for them to be able to look at each other. "I'll have to thank her when I see her again. Waiting for you was torture. Hela told me I had to wait for you to come, that I couldn't go seek you out myself." Then he blinks and draws back even further. "I thought you would be younger."

Evelyn smiles wryly while wiping away the tears still running down her cheeks. "I am, but I was given a gift." She touches the pendant where it rests in the hollow of her neck. "It gives me the appearance of my true age for twelve hours here on Asgard. Hela's Valkyrie actually gave it to me."

Loki darts forward and presses a short but heated kiss to her lips. "Whatever spell work it is, I am grateful for it."

"Brother, am I going to have to beg for a hug from my sister, or will you consent to letting her go for a brief moment?"

Evelyn nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of Thor's voice, and she looks up to see the blond standing a little ways away. He's without Mjolnir, which surprises her. But then what he said actually sinks in.

"Thor?" She can't help how her voice breaks, but it's been three years since she's seen him. Since they lost them. Wordlessly, Loki pulls them to their feet again, then pushes her in his brother's direction. She nearly trips over her own feet, but Thor easily catches her. He sweeps her up into a spine popping hug that she returns desperately. "How—?"

"We don't know. Perhaps your luck affected the spell more than you originally thought." Thor's voice rumbles through and around her, and Evelyn starts crying all over again. She's just missed him so much. He'd become the big brother she hadn't known she'd always wanted. While Loki had mourned after just beginning to better understand his brother and Thor him, Evelyn had mourned having her brother torn away from her so shortly after finding him.

A hand touches the small of her back, and Evelyn instinctively knows it's Loki. She reaches out blindly to draw him into the embrace, wanting both her boys as near as possible. She inhales deeply, relishing in the smell of frost and earth intertwining with ozone and smoking pine. Thor wraps his arms around both of them, holding them steady. Loki bends down to press his face to the side of her forehead, breath tickling down her throat.

"Welcome home, askling," he murmurs almost reverently.

"It's good to be home," she whispers back.

* * *

In the empty office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a small, whirling thing sputters briefly before falling over. The few portraits still awake don't make anything of it, far too used to little bobs and bits of the Headmaster's doing all manner of things. It won't be until much, much later that it's really, truly noticed, and by then, there will be little that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore can do about it.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: So, not very happy with how the second half turned out, but I'm not going to agonize over it. I got to where I wanted to, and now I get to write a chapter everyone's eagerly been anticipating! Enjoy

**Chapter 8: Meeting the In-laws**

How long they stand there like that, Evelyn can't say. But eventually she does remember her cousin who only really knows her. So, rather reluctantly, she draws back and turns towards where Dudley, Fenrir, and Sleipnir are still standing. Dudley's managed to get himself off Fenrir, but he looks incredibly awkward standing between the wolf and the stallion who just tower over him.

"Dudley," she calls to him. He jumps, having been side eyeing Fenrir who's currently giving him a rather toothy wolfish smile. "Come over here." She holds out a hand and curls her fingers to beckon him over. He hesitantly takes a few steps, and she smiles encouragingly at him. "I promise they won't bite," she adds with another wiggle of her fingers.

"Much," Loki murmurs into her ear while wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing up against her back. She doesn't even have to look behind her to be able to whack him with the hand not reached out to Dudley. He grunts, but presses closer all the same. He just stays silent now to avoid any further abuse on her part.

When Dudley finally reaches them, Evelyn makes sure to give his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. "Loki, Thor, I'd like to introduce you to my cousin Dudley Vernon Dursley. He remembers all the undone years as well. Dud, this is my husband Loki and our brother Thor."

"'llo," her cousin mumbles, eyes trained very firmly on the ground.

Thor, of course, is the one who does something as Loki has attached himself to her and shows no sign of letting go anytime soon. Not that Evelyn blames him for that. She doesn't really want him to. The God of Thunder crouches down so he can be eye to eye with Dudley before offering his hand. Her cousin peeks at Thor through his eye lashes, cheeks a bright red. "Welcome to Asgard, young Dudley," Thor says. "Any kin that my sister claims as her own is kin to me as well."

Evelyn leans back into Loki and laughs at the wide eyed look on Dudley's face at that pronouncement. "Thor, you're going to scare him away before we do anything else!"

That, of course, makes Dudley puff up indignantly. "I've dealt with your weirdness for years, Potter," he retorts. "This isn't going to scare me away."

She bares her teeth in a wicked smile that has him blanching. "Then shake Thor's hand, cousin."

He scowls back at her, but squares his shoulders and does just that. "It's nice to meet you, sir," he says. Evelyn has to give him some credit, as his voice doesn't shake too much.

"No need for this 'sir' business," Thor scolds gently, giving her cousin's hand a very firm shake. "There should be no formality between family."

Dudley _eeps_ a little and edges just a bit closer to Evelyn's side once Thor lets go. "'kay."

Loki's throaty chuckle rumbling against her back has her smile going fond. It's been so long since they've had any reason to laugh. She's going to be cherishing it everytime it comes out for a while.

_I like her, Father,_ Sleipnir suddenly announces, trotting over with Fenrir. _She is quite nice._

_She is better than Sigyn,_ Fenrir states firmly, pressing up against them.

"I'm glad you both approve," her husband says a touch wryly. He does reach out to run a hand through Fenrir's fur, so Evelyn scratches the wolf behind his ears as well. Fenrir rumbles approvingly, leaning into both touches. Then Loki sighs, the small puff of air tickling the side of her neck. "Thor, if you want to eat before you meet with Sif again, then I suggest returning to the palace now."

Evelyn perks up at the mention of the female warrior. "Does Sif remember as well?" She wouldn't put it past her weird luck, not after Thor remembering without her even being on Asgard at the time. Of course, she's never really truly met the woman, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to know her regardless. She's actually eager to, after the stories Thor and Loki have told her of the woman warrior.

Loki scoffs. "No. She's just concerned because some imbecile blew up our wing of the palace two nights ago."

Evelyn blinks before glancing at a very sheepish looking Thor. "You did _what?_" she asks, completely and utterly flabbergasted. She can't remember any other time Thor lost control to such a degree, besides when they'd lost Jane.

"I thought I had just died and reacted badly to waking up," he shrugs almost helplessly. "Mjolnir couldn't bear the brunt of my powers such as they'd grown to be, so it broke again. This time it didn't contain itself quite as much." He does fix an exasperated look on Loki. "And how long do you intend to remind me of that, brother?"

While she can't see it, she knows Loki's smirking right back. "For however long I wish to."

"Then I suppose I shall have to endure until you've had your fill," Thor chuckles. "Do you intend to return to the palace with me?"

"We should," Evelyn murmurs, driving an elbow into Loki's side when he makes a noise of protest. "The longer you delay, the worse it'll be. We can't just hide away from everyone."

"Says who?" he mutters back, lips ghosting over her ear and causing her to shiver.

She lightly slaps the arm wrapped around her waist. "Lovely, I'd like to at least meet your mother." However much the idea of meeting her mother-in-law terrifies her, she does want to meet the woman that's so important to her husband. Narcissa and she had connected some, but the woman had mostly just been happy to be out from under Lucius' thumb. As Lady Black, Evelyn had given Narcissa her freedom back and subsequently financed all of the woman's world travels. They rarely saw each other after that.

Loki sighs again, pressing his forehead down onto her shoulder. "She will want to meet you as well," he begrudgingly agrees.

_I will carry you and Father to the palace,_ Sleipnir declares, stepping forward and nudging Evelyn's shoulder that Loki doesn't have his forehead on. _Let the little human and Thor ride the decorated horses._

"More riding?" Dudley gulps, looking decidedly uncomfortable with the idea. "Eve, I didn't take riding lessons like you. I'm going to fall off."

"Then I shall stay beside you to ensure Eystein does not try any mischief," Thor offers.

Evelyn breathes out a near silent sigh of relief. "That work for you, Dud?"

He shoots her a flat, unimpressed look. "What kind of choice do I really have?"

At this, Evelyn wiggles out of Loki's embrace so she can kneel down beside her cousin. "Dudley Vernon Dursley, look at me," she commands when it's clear he doesn't want to. She only continues when he finally meets her gaze. "I was prepared for this. I even had some idea of what might happen. You weren't prepared at all. If it becomes too much for you, _tell me_. I'll see to it that you're brought back to Earth and taken care of. I will _stay_ with you for however long that may take. Thor and Loki might be my family, but you are too. That means I will worry and care for you just as much I will them. Do you understand?"

"I _want_ to stay with you!" Dudley insists, "But Eve, it's a _lot_ to take it all in the course of a few days." He laughs bitterly. "It took me eight bloody years to wrap my head around the fact that magic was real, and another six before I was even comfortable with it being used around me. You've got to give me time to adjust to bloody _gods_ actually being real."

"I know," she says softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. "I know, and that's why I'm going to be constantly checking to make sure you're okay with whatever's happening. Because your health and happiness is just as important to me as theirs. So I'll ask again. Are you good with Thor riding beside you to make sure you won't fall off?"

He exhales noisily, dragging a hand down over his face. "Yeah, I'm good with that."

"Alright." She straightens back up, but then grins down at him. "Thor's not all that different from you, really. Big, bulky guy with a heart of gold and a great cuddler. I think you'll get along great."

"Yeah, but _he's_ a prince," Dudley mutters under his breath, probably not really meant to be heard, so Evelyn lets it slide. Instead, she turns back to where Loki is waiting beside Sleipnir. Both Fenrir and Thor have disappeared, but Evelyn figures Thor went to get the horses.

"You know I'll follow if you leave," her husband murmurs, reaching out to thread their fingers together. He also leans down to rest his forehead against hers. "You'll not be rid of me that easily, not now."

"I know," she says, squeezing his hand gently, "but you understand that Dudley is just as important to me as you? Just in a different way?" She peers at him hesitantly.

Loki sighs. "Alskling, I have always known that for family, there is nothing you wouldn't do for them that is within your power to accomplish." His hand not in hers curls around the back of her neck, applying only the tiniest bit of pressure. "I might understand, but for now, I won't care for that particular tendency of yours if it takes you away from me for any period of time."

"Fair enough," she concedes. She really doesn't want to be away from him either, but if Dudley needs her, she'll do it.

The crunching of boots and hooves on loose gravel has Evelyn turning in the direction of the sound. Thor is coming back from wherever he disappeared to, leading two horses. One is a dark bay and the other a light dappled grey. Both have rather modest looking tack, for all that they're Thor and Loki's mounts. Then again, if the brothers are just riding around the palace and its grounds, they probably don't need any fancy looking tack. Maybe Sleipnir meant decorated as wearing any sort of tack?

"Oh, they're gorgeous," she whispers reverently regardless. They're nowhere near as powerful looking as Sleipnir, but for regular horses she can tell their breeding would probably make Draco drool, pureblood bastard that he is.

Sleipnir snorts, tossing his head almost indignantly. _They are acceptable._

Evelyn can't help her giggle at that. "Oh, no horse I meet will ever be as magnificent as you, Sleipnir, but they are extraordinary in their own right." She wanders over, Loki trailing after her seeing as he refuses to let go of her hand. Going to the grey first, she lets the stallion inspect her before running a hand over his soft muzzle. "Hello handsome," she all but coos, scratching her way down his neck. "What's your name, lovely?"

"He is Eystein and he is Loki's," Thor says. "He and Helmar have born us faithfully into many a battle."

Evelyn hums under her breath, moving on to Helmar as Eystein begins demanding attention from Loki. Again she lets the stallion inspect her before loving on him. "Oh you're just as handsome," she murmurs, rubbing over the splash of white between Helmar's eyes. Then she sighs, taking a step back. "I'll stand here all day loving on your horses if I let myself," she says a bit wryly when Thor looks at her curiously. "We should probably get going."

Thor dips his head to her. "As you wish." He holds out Helmar's reins to her. "If you will stay with Helmar, I will assist seeing Dudley into Eystein's saddle while Loki holds him steady."

Evelyn smiles prettily at him. "Such a hardship," she teases, sinking a hand into Helmar's glossy mane. The stallion tosses his head, dancing briefly in place before she gently but firmly steadies him. "Steady now, none of that," she scolds lightly.

"You never did mention you had worked with horses before," Loki comments while Thor just lifts Dudley up off the ground and deposits him onto Eystein's back.

"And when, exactly, was I supposed to mention that while we were running for our lives?" she inquires with a sarcastic drawl. "I only know how to ride because Draco—" She falters, sucking in a startled gulp of air. "Because Draco considered it something a pureblood Lady ought to know." She's much more subdued when she finishes. Again she's reminded she no longer has to deal with the fallout over the fact that her heart chose another. For all that she cowardly, selfishly is glad of that, she wishes it wasn't at the cost of her friend. And Draco had become a true friend in those years together, even though she can't ever love him like he deserves anymore. She smiles weakly. "It gave me a sense of freedom that I desperately craved and previously could only get while flying."

"Then I am glad you learned," Loki murmurs, letting go of Eystein's bridle and pressing himself up against her side. She leans into him, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. She's lived with the possibility of not seeing Draco again for eight years, but only now that it's set in stone does it seem to be truly hitting her. Loki, bless him, lets her have a moment to grieve. He knows about Draco, and given his history with Sigyn, hadn't been too irrationally upset with her being with someone else before him. It helps that Evelyn's pretty sure Draco's one of the few reasons she settled so well after the war. Between him and Teddy, they gave her something to live for. Teddy had needed a mother, so Evelyn couldn't go swanning off like she'd been thinking of at first. Then they'd run into Draco one day, and Evelyn had discovered someone just as lost and floundering as she felt. She and Draco had rediscovered themselves together. He'd taught her pureblood customs and she'd introduced him to the Muggle world. They'd both come out of it as better people.

"Thank you," she breathes.

"Always, alskling," he returns, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I can sense Mother is in her gardens. Do you want to see her now?"

Evelyn considers this. "How likely is it for Odin to join her?" she asks, because she knows herself. She probably will go off at Odin the instant she sees him, and that's not really the first impression she wants to give Loki's mother. Her only grievance with Frigga is that she never told Loki that he was adopted. She'd made sure Teddy knew, and that that little fact didn't mean she loved him any less. There will be time aplenty to explain that to the Queen of Asgard.

Loki's arm around her waist tightens minutely. "Very."

She heaves out a sigh. "Then let's go meet her." Before she loses all her Gryffindor confidence and courage. "Dudley, do you—?"

Her cousin cuts her off. "Thor offered to take me his room and get food for both of us." He gives her a strained smile from where he's perched on Eystein's back. "Don't think I'm quite up for meeting a Queen just yet."

She dips her head back. "If that's what you want, then okay." She turns a curious eye to Thor. "I thought you blew up your rooms, though?"

"We were given temporary ones while our wing is being reconstructed. They are just as safe as our usual ones, so do not fear for your cousin's safety," Thor assures her, taking Helmar's reins from her. "We shall rejoin you later." He swings up into his saddle with an agile grace one wouldn't expect with his bulk. "If you would, I suggest you leaving before us so Eystein is not tempted to attempt to race Sleipnir."

That startles a chuckle out of Evelyn. "Yeah, I don't think he'd win."

_Of course not,_ the stallion scoffs.

"Milady," Loki intones, offering his hand.

She grins at him. "Milord." She lets him boost her back onto Sleipnir's back. Before she can offer him a hand in return, he gets himself up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. "Oh, I like this," she says, twisting her fingers in Sleipnir's mane while leaning back against him.

Her husband presses his lips to her neck and she can feel them curving into a smirk. "As do I. Sleipnir, you remember the way to Mother's gardens?"

Sleipnir tosses his head. _Of course. She sometimes lets me eat one of the apples that grow there._

Evelyn throws back her head and laughs. "That's a very good reason to remember." She pats him once on the neck. "Let's hope she'll let you have one today as well." Then she gives Thor and Dudley a smile filled with all the warmth and love she feels for them. "See you later!"

Sleipnir needs no prompting this time, starting off at a leisurely canter. When they're farther away from Thor and Dudley, he breaks into a ground-eating gallop that sees the distance between them and the palace rapidly disappearing. It's just as freeing as it was the first time.

Instead of going into the palace itself, Sleipnir circles around towards the back. Evelyn can see a multitude of different gardens stretched out beyond the shining palace of gold, ones she just knows would have Neville itching to dig his hands into. She shoves away the reminder of yet another friend lost to her. Sleipnir slows to trot through them, heading to the one surrounded by a gleaming fence. He comes to a stop at the gate, and Loki slides off. He quickly dusts himself off before turning back to her.

"Milady," he says again, offering her a hand.

She takes it, letting him help her down for all that she really doesn't need it. "You going to keep that up?" she inquires.

"Perhaps," he says casually, running a hand through her tangled curls. With a snap of his fingers, it combs itself out and twists into a simple braid. She pecks a kiss to his cheek in thanks. If she'd attempted that, her hair would've just been worse than when she started. Her magic has never really like to help when it comes to her hair. Both Remus and Sirius told her that that's been an ongoing problem in the Potter family for generations. Thankfully, Loki can tame her mane of hair, and he actually enjoys doing it.

"If I start blabbering on, please silence me," she begs.

Loki chuckles softly. "You'll be fine. Mother will adore you."

She frowns back at him. "Loki, I'm serious. You know me. When I'm nervous I—"

The closed gate they're standing by suddenly swings open silently without any visible prompting, startling Evelyn so much she yelps. Loki, the bloody bastard, just hums under his breath like that's normal.

"Mother knows we're here," he comments, "and apparently she's a bit impatient."

"Great," Evelyn grouses, wrapping her arms around herself. "Just bloody great."

Her husband cocks an eyebrow at her. "Where's that Gryffindor courage you're so proud of?"

"Back on Midgard," she mutters.

His lips spread into a disbelieving smile. "Are you scared about meeting my mother?"

"Lovely, I have only done the whole meet the in-laws thing _once_, and we rarely saw each other after that," she throws back at him. "I expect I'll be seeing a fair bit more of your mother than I did Narcissa, so I _really_ don't want to screw this up."

He frames her face in his hands and kisses her slowly and deeply. She sinks into it, letting the familiar feeling ground her. "Because you make me happy," Loki says, his voice low and rough and sending shivers down her spine, "she will accept you. Because I love you, she will love you in turn. You have nothing to be afraid of."

"Okay," she breathes out against his lips. She dips her head down and breathes in deeply. "Okay," she repeats while taking a step back. She lifts her chin back up and squares her shoulders. "Let's go."

Loki smiles fondly, but doesn't say anything else. He just takes her hand and leads her into the garden while Sleipnir trails along behind them.

It's magnificent. When Evelyn stretches out her senses, she can feel all the love and care and devotion that have gone into it. The feeling settles some of her shaking nerves. Surely someone who inspired all of this can't be too bad.

They come to a clearing ringed with flowers of every color. In the middle there's a blanket laden with food spread out underneath an apple tree. Sitting demurely on the blanket is a woman dressed in fine silk and minimal golden armor.

"Mother," Loki says, letting go of Evelyn's hand to stride forward and wrap the woman up into a hug when she gets to her feet.

"Loki," Queen Frigga returns. Her voice is soft and soothing, but Evelyn can hear hidden behind it a core of steel. She's not one to be tested lightly. Not that Evelyn had expected anything different. "And who is this enchanting young woman you've brought with you?" There's a knowing, teasing look in her gaze when their eyes meet.

Evelyn gulps.

"Mother, this is Evelyn Rosalie Potter, my wife," Loki says, a note of pride in his voice that makes Evelyn smile despite herself. "Alskling, this is my mother Frigga."

When Frigga holds out a hand, Evelyn obediently steps forward to take it. A rush of protective magic envelopes her, making her shudder. "Well met, Evelyn Rosalie Potter, and welcome to Asgard," Frigga greets her, squeezing gently. "I have been looking forward to meeting you ever since Loki informed us of you."

She smiles back weakly. "I'm glad I can finally meet you as well."

"Come sit and eat," Frigga offers. "We may talk as we eat."

Evelyn nods jerkily, letting Loki lead her to a spot and practically collapsing down as she sits. "Deep breathes, alskling," he murmurs into her ear, his breath tickling down her throat.

Without thinking, she whacks him, immediately mortified at the sound of Frigga chuckling.

"I see you will have no troubles keeping my trickster in line," Frigga says, settling herself opposite the two of them.

"I had lots of practice before I met him," Evelyn states flatly, eyeing her husband as he builds a plate for her. She accepts the food from him before pointedly watching him until he gets his own. "My father and his friends were pranksters growing up, as were some of my friends that I met at school. Loki just had more time to perfect his skills than them." She piles some meat and cheese onto a slice of bread. It takes all her self-control to keep from moaning when she takes a bite. The food she'd snuck when she'd been stuck in Loki's prison cell have nothing on this. It tastes better than any other food she's eaten before for all it's simplicity. Even better than Kreacher's cooking, and he'd been fairly devoted to spoiling her. When she sees the knowing and amused look on Loki's face, she doesn't even hesitate to hit him again. "You could've warned me!"

He grins back. "But then I'd miss out on your reaction, and what a lovely reaction that was."

She scowls. "Rude."

"You have not had Asgardian food before?" Frigga inquires.

"Only prison food," Evelyn replies almost carelessly for all that she watches Frigga's reaction. "We didn't exactly stick around after getting out." The Queen of Asgard just nods, taking a bite of her own food. Evelyn turns her gaze back to her husband. "What, exactly, have you told her about what happened?"

"That the Realms were collapsing and I used Soul Magic to send you back," Loki says soberly. He reaches out to run his fingers over her cheek. "I didn't have it in me to say much more without you by my side."

"I do know that you are my granddaughter's Avatar and that my son fell afoul with the Mad Titan," Frigga adds on. "The Mad Titan will be discussed at a later time, but might you tell me how you came to possess all of Hela's treasures?"

"Of course," Evelyn agrees, clearing her throat. "The cloak has been passed down through my father's family for generations now. The stone I was gifted. The wand I won by chance." A strained smile spreads across her lips. "Because of them, and the fact that my blood had been used in a ritual, I was able to walk to my death and then walk away." She reaches out blindly towards Loki, who immediately takes her hand in his. "Hela informed later me that _that_ was what actually sealed their alliance to me, my willingness to die for the sake of my friends."

Frigga makes a noise in the back of her throat. "My apologies. I didn't mean to distress you."

Evelyn shakes her head. "You couldn't have know. It's knowledge I've lived with for twenty two years now. I'm just used to most everyone already knowing." She laughs weakly. "I'm known as the Girl-Who-Lived and the Woman-Who-Conquered because of it."

Frigga frowns and Evelyn has to make herself not flinch for all that the woman hasn't lifted a single hand against her. "Yes, I do remember Hela and my sons mentioning something about a murderer who seeks you out." She turns sharp eyes onto Loki. "I assume you will be doing something about that, my son?"

"Of course," he retorts.

Frigga nods decisively. "Good. Your lady may stay here in Asgard while you do so should you desire it."

"Unfortunately, there's a prophecy that says otherwise," Evelyn interjects. "It's by my hand that he has to die." She shrugs. "I killed him before, once more shouldn't be too difficult." She bares her teeth in a vicious grin. "At least this time I know where all the pieces of his soul are hidden. Makes things a bit easier rather than meandering around the countryside without a clue of where to go."

"You'll not be doing that alone, alskling," Loki warns.

She scoffs. "As if I'd try to stop you."

"You are more warrior than my other daughter was," Frigga comments. "I can see that that is what my son truly needs by his side."

"I'm glad you think so," Evelyn returns blandly before looking pointedly at Loki. "I still haven't changed my mind about that, just so you know."

He huffs out a sigh, already knowing what she's talking about. "Alskling, you don't—"

"Get used to it," she primly informs him. "There's no reason not to start thinking about it, so you'd just best get used to the idea of having a daughter named Sigyn. Hela thinks it's a good idea as well."

He blinks at her, stupefied. "You talked to _Hela?_"

"Of course I talked to Hela about that. It's her mother I intend to honor. Why wouldn't I ask her if she was alright with that? I would've asked your mother as well, but—" She abruptly goes silent, wide eyes darting swiftly between her husband and his mother. Frigga raises an eyebrow, but otherwise doesn't comment on her sudden stop. Apparently she hasn't been informed of her untimely death yet, then, if that's all she does.

"You intend to name a daughter Sigyn?" she says instead.

Evelyn swallows around the lump in her throat. "I do." Sigyn Lillian, after her mother and Hela's. Just as she'd always intended to name a son either James Sirius or Sirius James. She'd already had a son named after Remus after all. Of course, life hadn't given her anymore children beyond Teddy. Hopefully this time she'll get them. She desperately hopes so.

Frigga smiles warmly. "It's a lovely idea."

"Thank you."

A silence that feels extremely awkward to Evelyn blankets them, everyone eating quietly. It's broken when Loki hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth, turning to glare in the direction they came in. His magic rubs against Evelyn's abrasively, setting her on edge. It's her turn to inhale sharply at the figure stepping out around the tree. She sets down her plate and gets to her feet so she can place herself firmly in front of Loki.

"Hello Odin," she stately flatly.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: The chapter you've all been waiting for! And me, if you couldn't tell! It took me all of two days to write this baby! Enjoy!

**Chapter 9: Don't touch my stuff**

They stare at each other, her and the King of Asgard.

Even without his armor on, he wears more gold than she really thinks is necessary. It just makes her think of all the pureblood Lords sucking up to her after the war, obscenely displaying their wealth for all to see.

"Evelyn Rosalie Potter, I presume?" His voice is deep and rolling, very much like Thor's. However, she doesn't hear the compassion Thor's has anywhere in it. It's rigid and unyielding, prepared to strike down those who stand in his way. And while that might be a good quality for a King to have, she doesn't much agree with the lack of compassion it inspires. Especially considering he's supposed to be a peaceful King right now.

"You would be correct," she drawls, tipping her head to him in a mockery of a bow. The only King she _might_ bow to would be Thor, and since he doesn't currently sit on Asgard's throne, she won't be bowing to anyone anytime soon. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

"I would know the woman who inspired such loyalties in my sons that they would die for her," Odin intones, smartly making no more moves to approach any further. Her magic is already but a finger's snap away from going deadly.

She slowly raises an eyebrow. "Really now? You're sure about that? You're not just here to see what lowly woman caught the extra's eye? Because that's what it seems like to me." Her lips curl into a sneer that Snape would be proud of. "Thor did not die for _me_, you imbecile. He _died_ for the people of Vanaheim. He _died_ so that they might live. He _died_ because Asgard had closed their gates to the rest of the Realms and we had no other way to transport people between the Realms. It was have Thor hold open the Gate or let the people of Vanaheim perish."

"Alskling," Loki murmurs while touching a hand between her tense shoulder blades.

She inhales sharply, letting her eyes briefly drift closed as she makes herself exhale slowly in an attempt to calm her already spiking temper. When she opens her eyes again, she fixes Odin with a _look_. "Do not belittle Thor's death just because you don't care for my presence in his life, Allfather. Thor fell keeping a whole people's safe. Honor that if nothing else."

Amazingly, Odin looks surprised of all things. "You think I object your presence in my sons' lives?"

Evelyn snorts. "I gathered as much when Asgard did the equivalent of slamming the door in our faces when we needed your help the most. Since I refused to see my husband beg to a people who'd turned their backs on him, I did the asking. I'm rather used to being the punching bag, you see. So I asked for help when Thor broke Mjolnir. I asked when Thor fell with Vanaheim. I asked when Nivadelir fell." She barks out a sharp, bitter laugh. "We only knew Asgard fell because the few Asgardian refugees we were sheltering felt their connection to Asgard rather abruptly shatter. All because their King finally fell. _That_ is how I know what my worth to you is. I stood by your _heir_ and yet you did nothing. You didn't lift a single fucking _finger_ to help us mere mortals. You just stood by and hid in your golden halls until reality finally caught up with you and you _lost_.

"Also, how _dare_ you call Loki your son after everything you've subjected him to! You _constantly_ compare him to Thor when the two of them couldn't be more different! Of course Loki won't ever measure up to him! He's not Thor! He is his own damn person, and until you get that through your thick, obnoxious skull, I'm of the opinion that you can just stay the hell away from him!"

That, of course, sparks a reaction she expects. Odin's expression goes thunderous and she can feel his power stirring in the air. "You presume much to order me around, mortal."

"I'll presume all I want, thanks!" she snarls back, undaunted even in the face of an angered Odin. "_You're_ the one who claimed him as your son, but you did a shitty job of being a father to him! Unless you'd planned to keep him locked up in Asgard all his life, the truth about his heritage was going to come out sooner or later. You're the bloody King! You could've done _something_ to change people's minds about Jotuns! Instead you let your Jotun son grow up hearing that his kind are the monsters parents warn their children about at night." She points a finger at him, sparks dancing down her arm as she fights to keep from just blasting him. Confident in her magic though she is, she's well aware _that's_ not a fight she'll be winning anytime soon. "My son's birth father was a werewolf, the monster wizarding parents warn their children about at night, but I made _damn_ sure he knew I didn't give a flying fuck what any bigots said about them or him. That he was _mine_ for all that I didn't birth him myself, and that I'd fight for him until my dying breath. What did you do, oh King of Asgard? You stole a baby in an attempt to bring two kingdoms together and then did _nothing_ to further that idea! You let relations with Jotunheim fester to the point where your bloody heir sought to wipe out an entire people because they interrupted his fucking coronation!"

"You dare—!"

"Yes I bloody well dare!" she screams. "I _married_ him, Odin Allfather! That makes him _mine_! Mine to protect, mine to love, and mine to fix because of your bloody fucking mistakes! Because I know a fucking thing or two about growing up always being second best for something you aren't even aware of! Of being judged because of what you were born as! Of being judged about something as fucking simple as your _blood_."

Up until this point, Frigga hasn't interjected in the slightest. She just lets Evelyn hurl insult after insult at her husband. Now, however, she steps forward. Evelyn does notice that she doesn't position herself beside Odin. No, Frigga stands on her own. "What exactly do you mean by that, child?"

"How knowledgeable are you about the wizarding world's current prejudices?" Evelyn asks instead of answering, not even protesting being called 'child'. To Frigga, practically everyone is a child. She just doesn't sound condescending about it like Odin.

"More so than my husband."

"Then you'll understand what I'm about to say," Evelyn says, only just resisting the urge to sneer at Odin again. "The first year of my life was actually full of love and laughter. I had parents who adored me, and uncles and aunts who loved me just as much. Then a fucking megalomaniac took it upon himself to destroy all that simply because of this stupid belief that one ought to be judged by the purity of one's blood rather than one's accomplishments. And my father, though he was pure of blood, was cut down because he chose to take a _mudblood_ as a wife and stood in the man's fucking way. My mother fell the same way, and when the bastard tried to kill me, his curse rebounded and robbed him of a body.

"After that I was placed into the ever loving care of my mother's sister who quite frankly despised both my mother and myself. I lived in a cupboard underneath their stairs, and, until I was five and started going to school, quite honestly thought my name was Freak because that was all they'd ever call me. My aunt and uncle tried to beat what they called my 'freakishness' out of me, and greatly encouraged my cousin and his friends in their many games of Evie Hunting. I endured all this because I didn't know any better. That all changed, of course, on my eleventh birthday when I was suddenly informed that I wasn't a freak, I was a _witch_, and my parents weren't drunken wastes of space like my dear aunt and uncle would have me believe. In fact, my father was a Lord and my mother the brightest witch of her age, to say nothing of the fact that they both graduated top of their class and my father went on to become one of the best Hit Wizards involved in that particular war while my mother was pursuing a Mastery before my arrival.

"Now let's move onto my Hogwarts years, shall we?" She grins viciously, thoroughly enjoying the way Odin's paling the further into her story she goes. Frigga's expression is almost carefully blank, but she kids herself into believing she doesn't care what the Queen thinks of her life story. "My first year I came face to face with the wraith of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the megalomaniac who'd killed my parents, as he attempted to steal a stone with the supposed power to make him immortal and give him a body again. Second year I came face to face with the sixteen year old memory of Riddle preserved in a diary for fifty years and a basilisk that Slytherin got from Merlin knows where hidden beneath the school. The fucking snake even _bit_ me. I only survived because the Headmaster's phoenix cried for me. My third year I got to deal with learning that the murdering raving lunatic who'd broken out of prison and reportedly coming after me was my godfather and supposedly the one who'd betrayed my parents to Riddle. Turns out the man who actually betrayed them was hiding as one of my friends' pet rat. Fourth year I got forcibly entered into a bloody tournament that had me facing nesting mother dragons, diving into a lake full of merfolk to rescue a friend in the dead of winter, and ended with me being part of a dark ritual to give Riddle a fucking new body and dueling the bastard before I was able to run away. Fifth year the Ministry refused to believe anything I said about Riddle's return, and I ended up with the words _I must not tell lies_ carved into the back of my bloody hand because the cowardly Minister's loyal toady _bitch_ had a personal vendetta against me. Not to mention, because of my own stupidity, I got my godfather killed when he tried to rescue me from a trap I walked into. That's also when I finally learned why Riddle wanted _me_ in particular dead." Her smile is deadly and sharp and broken, and she relishes the flinch it produces from Odin. "I destroyed the Headmaster's office after learning that particular tidbit of information. Sixth year ended with Riddle's merry band of followers invading Hogwarts and the Headmaster dying at the hands of his own fucking spy. My seventh year didn't even happen, given that I was on the run the entire time. I spent a good chunk of that time with a Horcrux around my neck. A Horcrux, by the way, is a truly bastardized version of Soul Magic where someone breaks their soul into pieces via murder to anchor said soul to the land of the living. It's what the diary was in my second year. They like to try and take over your mind. In the end, I finally did kill Riddle, though not without dying myself. You see, Riddle had unintentionally made me a Horcrux." Her hand unconsciously drifts up so she can run her fingers over the lightning bolt carved into her forehead. "It's what gave me my scar. He killed me and the piece of his soul stuck in me, but my blood was running through his veins because of my parts in his resurrection. That tied me to land of the living and gave me the ability to return."

She inhales and exhales deeply, then pins a truly scathing look on Odin. "So explain something to me, Odin Allfather. How is it that I came out of all of that relatively fine with barely any homicidal tendencies at all while your _son_," she spits out the word like it's a curse, "who by your reckoning was loved the entirety of his life, felt the need to prove his worth to you. That he would feel he had to go to such extremes as he did, using the Bifrost to literally _destroy_ the Realm of his birth, all to get you to even acknowledge his existence beyond being a pawn for your scheming? Tell me why you raised him for a throne you never even intended to give him!" She goes quiet then, chest heaving as she stares down the King of Asgard.

Loki is a solid warmth against her back, not having said a single word since he calmed her the once. His magic is gangled with hers, grounding her from flying any further off the handle than she already has. The hand latched onto her hip is almost painfully tight.

Odin clears his throat, eye darting briefly to his stone-faced wife. "Regardless of what you may think, everything I have done I have done to keep my sons, both of them, safe. That includes hiding the truth of Loki's parentage."

Evelyn can feel her husband's sharp intake of breath at that pronouncement. "You may claim to have kept the truth from him for his safety, but that decision is what caused the start of this whole mess to begin with!" she snaps back. "He _hated_ himself because of that! You have _no_ idea how utterly shattered he was when we first met! It took me forever to pick up the pieces and even begin to heal him! I'm still bloody working on it!" Loki's grip on her hip tightens just enough to send a jolt of pain down her leg, but all she does is lay her own hand over it. "Just so you know, the first time I ever told him I loved him, he looked me in the eye and asked me how I could bear to love a _monster_."

"Oh my son," Frigga breathes, looking at the two of them with tears in her eyes.

"I found him when he was at his lowest, and _I_ built him back up. I will _not_ have you undoing all my work, Allfather. I love Loki will all my heart and soul, and will love him no matter what, be he Odinson, Laufeyson, or even Friggason. So I suggest you get used to the idea I won't stand silent should I disagree with any of your _suggestions_ concerning my husband." She draws in a rattling breath, the tears she's been fighting back finally getting the better of her. "_Loki_," she chokes out.

Her darling husband immediately understands that she's reached her limit and whisks her away without a word.

* * *

Sif heard about the unknown arrival because the guards can gossip worse than the ladies of court, but it's not until she meets up with Thor that her suspicions are confirmed. He's grinning brightly and there's a bounce in his step that can only mean good news. And the only good news he's been waiting for is the arrival of Loki's wife.

"She is here, then?" she asks before he can say anything.

Thor laughs, not even bothering to question how she knows. He's just as aware of the guards' tendency to gossip as her. "Indeed she is. Loki took her to meet with Mother for lunch."

Sif lets her expression soften into a warm smile, an action she rarely indulges in. "I am glad. Both for you and for Loki. When do you—"

She's interrupted when, in a whirlwind of magic, Loki and a red-haired woman abruptly appear in the middle of the training field. The woman chokes out a sob, collapsing to the ground as she buries her face in her hands. Loki follows her down, wrapping his arms around her and rocking her back and forth.

"What happened?" Thor demands, knees hitting the ground with a dull _thud_ as he drops down beside them. His hands dart out like he wants to gather them close and shield them from whatever is hurting them.

Loki lifts his head just enough for Sif to see the look of loathing painted across her prince's face. "_Odin_ happened," he spits out like a curse. This, in turn, sets his wife off. A scream of fury and anger and pain and heartbreak tears through the air, rattling Sif more than she cares to admit. Loki's wife screams and screams and _screams_, pouring out a seemingly endless amount of frustration. It's only when the hairs on Sif's arms start standing on end that she realizes the woman is doing more than just merely screaming. She has magick, same as Loki, and it's churning dangerously unseen in the training ground around them.

"Evelyn—" Thor starts just as Sif's ears start threatening to pop from the pressure.

"I can't believe the utter _gall_ of him!" she shrieks, eyes as emerald green as Loki's blazing with untold fury when she lifts her head. "The _utter_—Merlin and Morgana, he wasn't even fucking apologetic! About anything!"

"I hadn't expected anything different," Loki states flatly, weaving a hand through his wife's hair.

"Father joined you for lunch, then?" Thor asks softly. There's something about his tone that sets Sif's teeth on edge. Then again, she's never heard either prince talk disrespectfully about their father and her King before, and yet the mere mention of Odin seems to raise Loki's hackles to dangerous levels.

"No, thank the stars, he did _not_," Evelyn snarls through bared teeth. She's panting, her chest heaving after her display. "He decided to _grace_ us with his presence after we'd eaten. I rather took exception to that idea, and informed him of such. Also told him that I will bloody well _not_ stay silent if I think he's trying to mess with my husband and to watch his step otherwise."

"I do appreciate the warning," Thor says a touch dryly. "I'd like some more time still before I must take up the throne, though, if you would."

Sif's jaw nearly drops at the casual discussion of Odin's untimely death.

Evelyn snorts, much of her anger draining away. "Just get your mother to sit on the throne then until you feel ready. I've only got one issue with her, and it has nothing to do with her ability to rule. She'd probably enjoy being able to put any annoying members of your court in their places."

"Mother can already do that, and is quite skilled at doing so. Who do you think taught Loki all he knows?" Thor teases.

"Hmm, well, hopefully she won't think too badly of me after that tirade I threw at her husband," Evelyn huffs, leaning into Loki's embrace. "Even if he did deserve every last word of it." Her gaze darts around, only just now taking in her surroundings. When emerald eyes land on Sif, she bolts upright with a startled squawk. "You didn't say you were with Sif!" She sends a pointed glare at Thor, who merely blinks.

"I was more concerned about you," he returns. "But Sif is a true and trusted friend of mine. She offered her blade to you to aide in dealing with the madman out for you blood without even having met you."

Evelyn groans almost dramatically, dragging a hand down her face. "Thor, you utter idiot, I just ranted and raved about her King in front of her! That's not normally considered a good first impression!"

Sif squares her shoulders, having caught one specific tidbit of information amidst all the screaming that now itches at her conscious. "You mentioned something about King Odin doing something to Prince Loki, about him interfering in some way."

Evelyn regards her almost warily for a long moment before explaining. "One thing in particular that I rather dislike about Odin's parenting skills is the fact that he expects Loki to be just a great a warrior as Thor. The idea itself is fine, it's how he goes about expressing his opinions about it that makes me want to hit him." She jerks her chin up defiantly. "Loki will never be a warrior like Thor anymore than you will be a maiden who tends to hearth and home. It's not in his nature. He is not built for it either. To try and force it out of him would lead to breaking him in both spirit and body, and _that_ is something I refuse to allow."

Sif jerks as if Evelyn had slapped her. She'd honestly never thought about it that way, and now she's angry with herself that she hadn't. It's true, after all. She's defying tradition just as much as Loki is. She as a female warrior, and him being male and yet studying magicks to the extent that he is. To think that the notion never occurred to her is shaming, actually.

"I see."

And indeed she does see. For all the magicks that Evelyn possesses, Sif can see a fierceness about her fit for any warrior gracing the battlefield. It's a fierceness that Sif sees in herself, the willingness to stand her ground and cut down any and all who get in her way. Now she truly understands what Thor meant by her and Evelyn getting along. She finds herself rather eager to get to know the fierce warrior woman who has so captured Loki's heart.

And the spreading smile on Evelyn's lips tells Sif that she feels exactly the same.


	10. Chapter 10

My apologies for how long it's taken to get this chapter out. My muse decided to go on an extended vacation without me halfway through, as I discovered it was harder writing from Sif's point of view than I'd originally thought. Not the happiest with how it turned out, but the muse would abandon me anytime I tried something new, so I eventually just said 'screw it!'. Enjoy!

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Chapter 10: Flush with fever

The smile slides off Evelyn's face as she lets out a groan, slumping back against Loki. "Shit, I'm Sokovia tired."

Sif understands that Evelyn must mean she's a specific kind of tired, but its true meaning is lost to her. She's never heard of this 'Sokovia' before. Apparently Thor is just as lost, seeing as he tilts his head to the side and repeats back, "Sokovia tired?"

A grimace flashes across Evelyn's face. "It's just a random thing I started doing to clarify how much magic I've used." She smiles weakly. "There's Hogwarts tired, Sokovia tired, Nivadelir tired, and finally Vanaheim tired."

"If you _ever_ make yourself Vanaheim tired again, we will have _words_," Loki spits through clenched teeth.

Evelyn snorts. "Darling, if I manage to make myself Vanaheim tired, the Realms had better be collapsing again. Otherwise I'm just plain suicidal." When Thor shifts his weight, Evelyn immediately fixes him with a _look_ that Sif usually only sees on Loki that judges the recipient's intelligence and often finds it lacking. She pulls it off rather well. "If you're going to ask if my exhaustion was your fault, don't. You're actually the reason I didn't end up killing myself." She scrubs a hand over her face. "If you hadn't been holding the Gate open, I would've drained myself long before the Realm collapsed because I somehow managed to stupidly intertwine my magic with the Gate itself. Just—" Her breath hitches momentarily. "Just _please_ don't—" She presses the heels of her palms to her eyes. "I felt you _die_," she finally chokes out, "and I can't—"

Thor makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat, immediately reaching for Evelyn. All things considered, Sif is surprised when Loki actually lets her go. Evelyn curls up in Thor's arms like she just fits there, and although Sif has somewhat seen the affection between her and Loki, has heard from Thor's own lips that she is but a sister to him, the sight still tugs uneasily at her heart. She tells herself it's just seeing an unknown woman being so comfortable and at ease with her princes.

Loki gets to his feet and walks over to her, touching a hand briefly to the small of her back as he steers her away from the two. "They'll be done in a minute," he says softly, "but Evelyn will be even more embarrassed if she realizes there was an audience to her break down."

Sif wobbles slightly as the reality of what Evelyn said just moments before truly settles in. "She felt him—"

"Yes, she felt him die," Loki states flatly, "and it took her nearly a month to even begin to recover from that. She threw herself into trying to find a cure to save Banner in an attempt to distract herself, but we still lost him that winter." He exhales harshly. "We just continued to lose people after that until we were the only ones left."

Sif finds herself reaching out to grab ahold of Loki's shoulder without conscious thought. "I may have only told Thor this, but I spoke truly when I said that my blade is yours and his when it comes to your wife. I will protect her with my life should you require it."

"I appreciate that," he returns with a dip of his head. "However, I would advise against informing Evelyn." His face twists into something horribly broken as he glances back towards her and his brother. "She has had far too many people die for her that it will only distress her right now."

"Death is inevitable in war," Sif points out. "I knew that the instant I took up a blade."

"She had _nothing_ growing up, Sif," Loki practically spits back. "No love, no true family. How badly then would you imagine she'd cling to anyone who shows her even a scrap of affection? And just what exactly she'd do to ensure that no one she'd claimed as _hers_ was ever taken away from her? Or how badly she would break if they were?"

Sif actually pauses to think about it. She recalls how, just moments ago, Evelyn had seemed to be unconsciously throwing about what Sif considers an obscene amount of magick and she'd only been experiencing a controlled anger of sorts. Of course, her anger had been on Loki's behalf, so that kind of explains the amount of magick being used. It makes Sif shudder to even begin to imagine what might happen it Evelyn truly lost control. "She doesn't know me," she protests for all that the excuse sounds weak even to her ears.

"She knows you," Loki corrects her almost wryly. "Thor talked of you near constantly whenever he had time with her. You and Mother. Evelyn wasn't overly happy that she didn't get the chance to meet either of you, so she'll probably attempt to make up for what she considers lost time. Anything you are willing to teach her will be greatly received."

Now it's Sif's turn to bow her head. She does it a bit more deeply than Loki did to her, as she's acknowledging her prince. Because he's _her_ prince just as much as Thor is, she's coming to realize. Hers in that she will follow him for more than just duty. Hers because they are far more alike that she'd originally noticed, she and him. And so he's becoming hers to protect and defend and stand by just as with Thor. Perhaps, in some instances, even more so than Thor, for Loki understands her in ways that Thor never will be able to.

Of course, the moment, like most moments, is broken. Only this interruption scares Sif far more than she'll ever care to admit.

"Brother!" The sheer amount of panic in Thor's voice as he calls for Loki lodges itself in Sif's heart as she sprints back the short distance to where Thor is still kneeling. Only, all is most definitely not as it should be. Cradled in Thor's arms is a red haired child, cheeks flush with fever while glazed green eyes lazily drift closed just as Loki hits his knees beside them. Her clothes are the same as when she was grown, but how Evelyn changed from a grown woman to a sickly child, Sif doesn't know. And neither, by the looks of it, does Thor.

"The pendant," Loki says in a hushed tone, reaching out to touch a stone that rests innocently in the hollow of Evelyn's throat, bound to a simple gold chain. "She mentioned this." His brow furrows. "But I thought she would have more time."

"She needs to see Eir," Sif insists, already worried about the fever gripping the woman she just met. She'll deal with the details of how and why concerning the age change later. Right now she just wants to get Evelyn to the best Healer she knows.

That, fortunately, seems to snap Thor out of the daze of panic he'd fallen into. "Of course." He immediately gets to his feet, holding Evelyn carefully to his chest. Now it's Loki who seems to have fallen into a daze, as he's not displaying any amount of panic when just minutes before he'd been furiously worried about Evelyn's state of being. At least, that's what Sif believes until she walks closer and sees him shaking. His eyes are squeezed shut, but there's a hint of tears lingering on his lashes.

"Loki," she says softly, touching his arm gently. He just grits his teeth, seemingly bowing even further into himself. She nods sharply, decided. Well then. She just take matters into her own hands. "To the Healing Hall," she instructs firmly. Thor needs no further prompting, turning on his heel and starting a fast clip towards the palace. Sif takes hold of Loki's arm and uses that to make sure he keeps pace with her as she follows behind Thor. She thinks he'd continue to follow if she let go, but she isn't quite willing to take that chance.

Mercifully, the Healing Hall is on this side of the palace, nor do they run into any members of court who would attempt to stop and question them. Sif doesn't even want to begin to consider what Thor might do if someone tries to keep him from getting Evelyn to help. It's only when the doors to the Healing Hall are within sight that she let's go of hold on Loki, and only so she is able to hurry ahead and get the door for Thor.

"Eir!" she calls out, even as the heads of all the Healers turn in her direction. She spots Eir at the end of the Hall, already standing and making her way towards them.

"Lady Sif, what has Prince Thor—" Eir begins, most likely assuming that Thor hurt himself somehow, only to abruptly cut herself short at the sight of Evelyn cradled in Thor's arms. "Stars," the Healer breathes, a horrified expression flickering briefly across her face before it settles into calm determination. "Lay the child here, my prince." Eir directs him to one of the smaller beds.

Sif turns away from them only to see Loki frozen in the doorway. With an irritated huff, she marches over and drags him to Evelyn's bedside. "Stay here and listen to what Eir says we must do for Evelyn," she instructs while pushing him into the chair usually used by the parents of the child getting healed, feeling as though her prince needs to be told what to do right now. In most other situations, she wouldn't dare, at least not with Loki. This isn't most situations. If anything, he reminds her of battled shocked warriors who've reached their limit. She's just thankful he isn't lashing out. Only once she gets a flicker of recognition from him does she look to Thor. "You will stay with him?"

His brow furrows as he regards her with confusion. "You are leaving?"

"I intend to find the Queen," she explains softly. "They both would benefit from a mother's love and touch right now, I believe." Her lips twist into a tight smile. "And I am not the best at the sort of comfort your brother requires at the moment."

Thor exhales explosively. "Aye, neither of us truly are," he agrees with a pained look. Then he blinks and a thoughtful expression crosses his face. "After you find my mother, might you stop by my chambers and inform Evelyn's cousin of what happened? They arrived together, but Dudley was overwhelmed so I offered my rooms as a refuge for him to recuperate in. He will want to know what has befallen his cousin."

"Of course," she replies with a dip of her head. "I'll return as quickly as possible."

"Thank you," he whispers, and it takes nearly all of her self control not to react as she walks away. While she knows that Thor values her, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun, very rarely does he voice it and mean it with a true sincerity. Still, it is enough for her to keep her head high as she makes her way to the gardens the Queen frequents.

"Is the Queen here?" she demands of the guards before entering. No use going in if Queen Frigga isn't even here. She hopes she is. Sif has no desire to go hunting through the entire palace, but she will if that's what it takes.

"She is, but has requested not to be disturbed," one guard informs her.

"I have news concerning Prince Thor and Prince Loki," she retorts. "Her presence is requested in the Healing Hall."

That immediately makes both stand up straighter. "Did something happen to the Princes?" It's been some time since either managed to land themselves there, so of course their concern is warranted. Especially given that both avoid the Healing Hall if at all possible.

Sif shakes her head. "Not to them, to Prince Loki's guest. It has him agitated, however, and I felt Queen Frigga's presence might calm him some. May I enter to inform her of such?"

"No need." Sif's head snaps up at the sound of her Queen's voice. Frigga approaches with a quiet dignity Sif always envies. "What is this I hear of my future daughter in the Healing Hall so shortly after I last saw her?"

"We're not entirely sure, my Queen, but she collapsed suddenly and was flushed with fever. I had Thor bring her to the Healing Hall and had to make sure Loki followed us. It seems as though he's retreating within himself." She explains all this as they walk swiftly towards the Healing Hall. Sif does make sure to keep an eye out for when she'll need to excuse herself to head to Thor's chambers.

Frigga sighs softly. "That, unfortunately, does not surprise me. He is not lashing out, though?"

"He had not yet when I left to fetch you," Sif replies. "Thor remained to help if he does."

"Good, good," Frigga murmurs. "Now, you say Evelyn has developed a fever?"

"Aye, she did." Sif considers something before adding, "After throwing about a considerable about of magic. I do not know the price such actions would invoke, but perhaps…" She trails off with a half hearted shrug, unsure of her assumption.

"Perhaps indeed. In any event, you have my thanks for coming to fetch me."

"Of course." Sif inclines her head as a full bow is rather difficult while walking. They round a corner, and Sif realizes that this is where they'll have to part ways. "Forgive me, but Thor requested I go inform Evelyn's cousin of what happened before I return to the Healing Hall."

That, surprisingly, earns her a sharp look. "I see." What she sees, Sif has no clue, but she isn't about to tell her Queen that. "Should he wish to see my future daughter to assure himself of her health, he is welcome to join us in the Healing Hall."

While Sif might be more of a warrior than a diplomat, it isn't hard to discern that that was more of an order than a suggestion. Also, Frigga seems very intent on pointing out the fact that Evelyn will be her daughter one day. Why, Sif doesn't quite understand, but it isn't her place to question. Instead, she just bows with a murmured, "My Queen," before starting on her way to Thor's temporary chambers, as his usual ones are still being repaired.

Upon reaching the door, she knocks once in warning before pushing it open. The sight that greets her stops her in her tracks. The child in Thor's chambers is the opposite of Evelyn in every way imaginable. Male, for starters, and he doesn't even appear to notice as she slips into the room. Sif knows that Evelyn would've been aware of her the instance she knocked. And while the motions he's going through look rather well learned, his body is not yet used to them given the sweat clinging to him and the way his rather large limbs are shaking.

She waits for him to pause before calling out, "Dudley?"

Evelyn's cousin jumps, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste as he spins to face her. "Wha—Who are you?" he yelps, eyes wide with wariness and just a touch of fear.

"My name is Sif Tyrdottir," she says, holding up her hands to show she has no weapons in them. "Thor sent me. Your cousin, Evelyn, is currently in our Healing Hall with a fever."

His suspicious expression immediately goes flat as he drags a hand down his face. "Of course she is," he mutters. "God damn it, Eve, can't you go _anywhere_ without landing yourself in the hospital?"

That, of course, catches Sif's attention. "This is normal?" she inquires, wondering at his lack of panic.

"She joked enough about practically having an assigned bed in the infirmary at her school because she always managed to end up in there at least once per school year." He groans, scrubbing a hand through sweat soaked hair. "She's a Potter, they do insane, crazy shite and somehow manage to come out the other end in relatively one piece. Maybe a bit battered and bruised, but God I wish I knew how they did it. I just gave up trying to tell her 'no, don't do the stupid thing' cause she'd just go off and do it anyway, and _then_ she'd be smug about it for months afterwards."

Well, Sif muses a bit despairingly to herself, it's really not surprising in the least that Loki fell for a woman with such obscure luck. Of course, that will make keeping Evelyn safe all the more difficult. Still, Sif has never been one to back down from a challenge, and this one will certainly see her entertained for years to come.

"My condolences," she says a touch dryly. Dudley just snorts. "However, an offer has been made for you to accompany me to the Healing Hall to see for yourself that your cousin is in good hands."

He blinks, head tilting slightly as he muses over her words. Then his expression morphs into exasperated knowing. "It wasn't really an _offer_, was it?"

Sif makes herself exhale slowly. "It was not."

He grumbles something under his breath that Sif doesn't catch. "Unfortunately, I'm currently covered in sweat, and I know that Eve would give me a right bollocking if I ever showed up to her hospital with the intent to visit while absolutely filthy. I can't imagine that your head doc will be any different."

Sif concedes to herself that he does have a point. "Perhaps, but Healer Eir is used to dealing with injured warriors fresh off the field. There are bathing facilities in the Healing Hall."

Dudley sighs. "Guess there's no point in delaying, then." He half-heartedly waves a hand at the door. "You lead and I'll follow."

Sif nods sharply, then turns on her heel and heads back out. She holds the door open for Dudley before starting off at a brisk clip towards the Healing Hall. She doesn't go too quickly, not knowing Dudley's endurance levels, but she's still a bit anxious to get back and see Evelyn with her own two eyes. Despite having only known about her for a couple of days and just having met her an hour previous, Sif isn't too surprised that she's already placed Evelyn as one of _her_ people. Right now it's mostly because Evelyn is Loki's, but she doesn't doubt that Evelyn will quickly manage that by her own worth.

"Ho there, Sif!"

And of course her luck at avoiding people has come to an end.

Forcing back the urge to grit her teeth, Sif doesn't bother turning as she calls back, "Fandral, I have no time for you at the moment. I'm expected in the Healing Hall."

There's the hurried sound of clanking boots before Fandral asks breathlessly, "Has something happened to Thor?"

"And who's this wee friend of yours?" Volstagg adds, causing Dudley to let out a startled _meep_.

"Nothing has happened to Thor or _Loki_," Sif stresses the name of their second prince, causing Fandral to give her a surprised look that she only just sees out of the corner of her eye. "However, their guest developed an unexpected fever, hence why I am bringing her cousin along so that he may see for himself that she is being cared for." Now she's the one shooting Fandral a _look_. "Queen Frigga insisted, as she was who I was sent to fetch first." She's rather pleased when stark understanding flashes across her fellow warrior's face and he subdues. Very few things can truly tame Fandral these days, but the Queen thankfully is one of them. "You may accompany us to the Healing Hall, but don't expect Thor to be willing to leave with you. He's rather protective of his brother and their guest."

"And would said guest be the one who all the guards are still gossiping about?" Volstagg inquires knowingly.

"You would be correct." Sif offers no further knowledge than that as they've reached the Healing Hall. The doors are open and she can see Thor, Loki, and Frigga by the bed that Evelyn's in. Frigga is sitting beside Loki, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, while Thor paces the length of the bed in slow, measured steps. Sif hears Dudley inhale sharply before he hurries past her.

"How is she?"

Sif finds it a bit telling that Dudley immediately looks to Thor for an answer. She also notes that for all that he appears to want to reach out and take Evelyn's hand, he doesn't.

"Healer Eir says that it's not a high fever," Thor assures him, and Sif can't help her soft sigh of relief. "She's just stressed herself enough that her body finally couldn't keep up with her demands. She will be well within a day or two."

Dudley collapses onto the bed next to Evelyn's. "She was _told_ she had to rest, but did she? No, of course not," he mutters. "Bloody Potters and their bloody stubbornness."

That makes Loki's head snap up. "She was _what_?" he demands, finally coming back to life.

Dudley jumps at the sudden demand, but rallies himself reasonably well. "We had a Valkyrie come to us two days ago. She took a piece of soul out of Eve's forehead and warned her that she'd be tired and weak afterwards. That she shouldn't use magic for a while until she recovered enough."

Sif has a rather abrupt need to sit down, and only Hogun appearing at her side keeps her from dropping inelegantly to the floor. A piece of _soul_ stuck in her. Sif remembers the stories. It's one of the many warnings that go along with the risks of Soul and Death Magic. The risk of splintering your soul, and the utter agony it causes is enough to deter most people from develling any further. The knowledge that Evelyn had someone's soul stuck in her because they were willing to risk that is sickening.

"Somehow, that does not surprise me," Thor says wryly, tossing a fond yet exasperated look at the girl curled up in the other bed. "Unfortunately, she is not one to care for herself as much as her companions."

"Yeah, and that would be my fucking parents' fault," Dudley grumbles, staring determinedly at the floor.

"You are my future daughter's cousin, then?" Frigga inquires, finally speaking. Her expression is rather alarmingly blank, and Dudley mercifully notices.

"I am," he returns warily.

"And did she ask you to come with her?"

He gives a jerky nod. "She did."

"And you came even with the history between you?"

Dudley inhales sharply, and it's only because Thor steps forward to lay a hand on his shoulder that Sif doesn't lurch forward herself. "The mistakes I made as a child are ones I'm still trying to repay, not that Eve makes it easy to do so. If that means following her to different _worlds_, then so be it. I've been behind her ever since I finally realized that my parents' version of normal is _not_ something I want to aspire towards."

"Evelyn mentioned the same to me," Loki adds softly, reaching out to take one of Evelyn's hands in his own. "Rest assured, I will no more allow you to return than I would her."

Dudley chuckles weakly. "Yeah, I don't think any of us want to see what would happen if that happened." He stretches his arms above his head before looking over to Sif again. "You mentioned something about a bath?"

"I'll take you," Thor offers.

"Thanks."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: So, not the length I'd originally hoped for, but hey, it's a chapter! Enjoy!

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**Chapter 11: Doctors make the worst patients**

Loki watches Thor lead Dudley to the bathing area, though he's mostly focused on the pulse beating out a steady tempo under his fingertips.

"He is not what I expected," Frigga murmurs once the two disappear from sight.

"You only heard Evelyn rant of their childhood together," Loki informs her. "She was very adamant that he was just as much a victim of his parents behavior as she was. The abuse they dealt him only became apparent once he stopped blindly following their lead."

"Abuse?" On the other side of the bed Hogun has to swiftly steer Sif to a chair as her legs finally give out on her. She'd rallied after the mention of the soul shard in Evelyn's forehead, but adding on the knowledge that she was abused is apparently too much for the female warrior.

"She is a wee little thing," Volstagg comments, brow furrowed in clear distaste. "You say her relatives were not kind to her?"

Loki barks out a bitter laugh, unable to help himself. "In her own words she told me that she was treated no better than a thrall. She was kept in a cupboard underneath their stairs until the age of eleven, was made to do most of the household chores when she reached age five, and her aunt forced her to keep her hair cropped short. All because she has magic while they do not, and they never even had the decency to tell her that. They just acted like she was the same as filth underneath their boots until she grew up and came into her own."

"Loki, she _is_ a child still," Fandral says slowly.

"In body only," Loki throws back with a sneer. "Or are you so inept that you haven't yet heard of my usage of Soul Magic?"

Hogun speaks before a red faced Fandral can. "We've heard. We simply didn't know that she," he nods at Evelyn, "was a part of it. All we knew was that you and Thor remembered years not yet passed."

"She is the main reason my son used Soul Magic," Frigga interjects, sobering Fandral immediately, "so we are all a little protective of my future daughter at the moment."

All of the Warriors Three blink and look at Evelyn in mild disbelief, but only Hogun and Fandral glance in the direction Thor went. Volstagg, instead, fixes a rather knowing look on Loki, much to his surprise. "My congratulations, then, my prince. She makes you happy?"

"Very," Loki chokes out, his grip on Evelyn's hand tightening minutely. It's then that he remembers that Volstagg is the only one of the three married. That for all their keen eyes on the battlefield, Hogun and Fandral don't quite know the tells of marriage just yet.

"Goo 'ser."

Evelyn's slurred words make Loki fly out of his chair, nearly elbowing his mother in the face as he goes.

"Alskling?" He hesitantly reaches out to touch his fingertips to her still flushed cheek. Her lashes flutter as she attempts to open her eyes. Glazed over green darts around aimlessly trying to place where she is. "You're in the Healing Hall," Loki informs her softly.

Her nose crunches up. "_Why_?" she whines in clear displeasure.

"You're sick, sweetling," Frigga says, having moved so she can settle on the other side of the bed opposite Loki. She tenderly runs a hand over Evelyn's sweaty brow. "You collapsed after developing a fever."

Evelyn blinks up at Frigga in obvious confusion. "'Ki, Mum's with Mum. Did I _die_?"

Loki has to briefly squeeze his eyes shut to try and fight back tears. "No, lovely, you didn't die. I used Soul Magic, remember? My mother is still alive and well."

She jerks her chin down. "'Cept mine isn't. I'd've gone _splode_ otherwise." She wrinkles her nose again, pouting heavily. "'M never gonna have a mum, am I? Just a freak."

"Go to sleep, alskling," Loki murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead and slip a minor sleeping spell over her. She's still tired enough that it takes effect almost immediately. Her eyes drift shut again and Loki hefts himself back upright. "Stars, I didn't think that'd ever slip out again." He drags a hand tiredly down his face.

"Loki, what did she mean by that?" Frigga all but demands.

He huffs out a small sigh, never liking remembering this. "She has never had a true mother figure. Of the two who might have been, one was apparently ridiculously overbearing, and the other fled to reclaim her life shortly after the conclusion of the war. She never begrudged the second woman that choice, but she refused to bow to the whims of the first." He reaches out to brush a stray curl away from her sweaty forehead, only for Frigga to grab ahold of his wrist. He looks up at her, startled.

"My son, why did she think she had _died_ when she saw me?"

Loki abruptly feels his stomach heave.

Apparently, neither he nor Thor have mentioned the fact that Frigga herself had died. A quick glance shows that, no, Thor is _not_ coming back anytime soon, and he knows his mother too well. She will not wait.

"Leave us," he bites out through clenched teeth, locking eyes with Sif. A look of dawning horror has already started to slowly slip over her face, but it disappears behind a blank expression as she jerks her head downwards. She manages to kajole the Warriors Three out of the infirmary without too much protesting on their part. It only takes one pointed threat from Sif and an equally pointed look from Loki to do the trick. Once they're gone, he throws up a subtle muffling ward. "You died," he states bluntly, for all that the words tear at his heart. "You died when Malekith tried to take Asgard, and Evelyn never actually met you in the time before. Hela had shielded her from sight against everyone but me, and Evelyn only knew what you looked like because I showed her illusions of you at her request." He sighs, an uncomfortable lump having lodged itself in his throat. "On top of all of that, she has the unfortunate habit of seeing people long since departed when she has a fever."

Frigga regards him silently for a moment. "So that is why you refused my touch that morning," she murmurs. "It would have broken you utterly, would it not have, my son?"

Loki blinks furiously, refusing to give into the tears threatening to fall. "It did." He'd just managed to escape the worst of the fallout simply by falling asleep(He refuses to admit that he actually fell unconscious from the overload).

His mother sighs delicately. "That does explain why your brother seemed torn between never leaving your side and refusing to allow me to leave his line of sight." She gives him a sad smile. "I had simply assumed that we had not been able to see each other given the situation, not that there'd been a more permanent separation."

He badly swallows the sob that tries to claw its way out of his throat. "Thor—Thor is the one who saw your body. I was never given the opportunity, seeing as I was in a cell at the time." He inhales sharply, relieved to feel the familiar tingle of Thor's lightning brushing up against his magic. He lets the muffling ward drop when Thor hesitates to approach.

Thor, most likely upon seeing Loki's wet eyes, immediately hurries over. "What happened?" he all but demands.

Loki scrubs at his face, annoyed at his lack of composure for all that the subject discussed would be enough to reduce anyone to tears. "Did you know, brother, that neither of us informed Mother of her death? That she just now found out because my wife sees _dead_ people when she's feverish?"

Thor blinks at him, then abruptly sits on the bed nearby. "I—I thought—"

"Yes, well, so did I." He sighs, letting his gaze drift back to Evelyn. She's shifted onto her side and curled up into a ball, all while facing him. Her magic, what isn't fighting off the fever, is still reaching out to him. He doesn't doubt that she'd wake if he tried to leave.

"I apologize that I wasn't here for that," Thor murmurs.

Loki immediately waves away the apology. "So long as you handle Sif later, I don't particularly care."

"Sif?"

Loki shoots his brother a rather unimpressed look. "Yes, Sif. Your friend who was here just a few minutes ago? I sent her and the Warriors Three away to talk to Mother in private, but Sif appeared to have already worked out what I was going to tell her."

Thor exhales explosively, jerking his head down in a nod. "Aye, I'll speak with her the first chance I get." He pointedly doesn't appear to look in Frigga's direction. She graciously doesn't comment on this, simply letting the two of them converse while she continually runs a hand through Evelyn's curls. She's who Loki learned to watch and listen from, after all. It's how she's always on top of whatever gossip is circulating through the palace.

"My thanks."

"May I ask, brother, what your plans are now that Evelyn has come to Asgard?" Thor inquires after a moment's pause.

It's a reasonable question, given that he hadn't been willing to discuss anything beyond Evelyn's arrival until now. "Firstly, after she's recovered from this fever, I intend to do something about Sirius Black."

Thor leans forward, hands clasped together in front of him. "Her godfather, wrongly imprisoned. Why do I get the feeling, brother, that you don't intend to just inform the local authorities and have them deal out the proper justice?"

Loki snorts, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "He's been imprisoned for _ten years_ at this point, Thor. The local government isn't about to admit to a mistake that drastic. It took Evelyn four years to get his name cleared after the end of the war, and that was with her being a celebrated war hero. If nothing else, we ought to just steal him away ourselves. They all believe him to be a murdering raving lunatic as it is."

"That is the second time such a description has been used in regards to the man who is my future daughter's current male guardian," Frigga interjects, voice soft yet vividly unhappy. Loki, of course, gets a tiny thrill at her claim to Evelyn, small that it is. "Is such a description true?"

"Mother, Sirius Black gave his _life_ to keep Evelyn safe. He is no more insane that…" Here Loki trails off, a bitter frown twisting his expression. "He has been shoved and pulled into situations that would break a lesser man and yet he held firm to his sanity, which is more than I can attest to."

"Brother, what happened on Midgard—" Thor begins.

"I knew _exactly_ what I was getting into, Thor," Loki spits, eyes ablaze. "I set out to subjugate an entire people! Again, I might add! That blasted staff only cemented my belief that what I was doing was justified!"

"It is behind us and we need no longer focus on it," Thor states firmly. "Furthermore, on Midgard it has never actually occurred. Simply learn from the experience so it does not happen again."

"If I even remotely consider it, Evelyn will hex me within an inch of my life," Loki states dryly.

"Which is why it _won't_ happen and you've nothing to worry about." Thor nods decisively. "And brother, I would cease comparing your experience with that of Sirius Black. Your two situations are entirely different. The dementors that Evelyn spoke of are fearsome creatures, but you were at the mercy of the Mad Titan for a year. And on top of that, he wielded the Mind Stone. You were already in a precarious mental state of mind when he came upon you."

Loki near about jumps out of his skin as Frigga grabs ahold of his wrist again, only this time her grip is painfully tight. "You were in the company of the Mad Titan?"

"Aye, he was," Thor answers for him, reaching out to gently but firmly make Frigga release her hold on him. "This was after he fell off the bridge."

"Thanos is moving again?" Frigga demands, letting go but fixing the both of them with startled looks.

Thor exchanges a glance with Loki before pulling their mother to her feet. "Walk with me, and I will tell you all that I know of Thanos. The Healing Hall is no place for such talk. If we need my brother's expertise, we can call for him."

* * *

When she's woken up in the middle of the night, it's from a restless sleep.

Frigga throws a robe over her nightgown before making her way towards her sons' chambers. Her thoughts are all a jumble from the talks that happened throughout the course of the afternoon. To learn that the Mad Titan Thanos is moving about in the shadows is unnerving, to say nothing of the fact that her son was at his mercy for a period of time. _That_ thought makes her blood boil.

Of course, now she has to go inform said son that his future wife is missing from the Healing Hall. Thankfully, Eir alerted _her_ first, and not Loki. Frigga doesn't even want to begin to imagine the catastrophe that would've occurred has Eir been the one to wake Loki and deliver the news. Still, she is concerned at what his reaction will be. The loyalty and connection between the two is formidable.

The door to Loki's chambers is slightly ajar, worrying Frigga even more. She slips inside, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of Evelyn curled up peacefully in Loki's arms. Her hair is a shock of red in the otherwise dark room. Loki has an arm slung over her small body, holding her firmly to his chest.

Then something rustles and Frigga startles as gold eyes lock onto her. So great is her shock that she actually takes a step back. It takes a moment, but then she recognizes the winged woman who had come with Hela two nights ago. Said woman steps out of the shadows while sparing a passing glance towards Frigga's sleeping family.

"I knew you'd eventually show up," she murmurs, coming to a stop just out of arm's reach. Moonlight shimmers off her silver armor, casting soft beams of light up onto her face and over her flared wings. A whisper of magic has an invisible barrier going up between and the bed behind. "I just wasn't sure how long it'd be."

Frigga draws herself up, dignity draped over her for all that she lacks the material markings of a Queen. "Who are you and what exactly are you doing in my son's chambers unannounced?" She frowns. "For that matter, how did you manage to enter without waking him?" Even before the Soul Magic, Frigga has not been able to sneak into Loki's chambers with him unawares for years. She would've expected for her son to react with deadly force to any who dared entered without his explicit permission, yet he lies deeply asleep still.

An amused smile spreads across the woman's lips, and Frigga wonders at the familiarity of it. "I am a Valkyrie for Lady Hela. As Evelyn Rosalie Potter is Lady Hela's Avatar, I am well within my rights to check on her wellbeing. Besides," Here the woman's expression softens into fond longing as she looks back to the sleeping pair, "I wanted to be able to see her one last time before I continued on my way." She sighs, feathers shifting silently when she turns her back to the bed. "As to how I managed to get in here without waking your son, well…" Frigga is now graced with a smirk she normally only sees on Loki, yet does not look misplaced on this unknown woman. "We Queens do have to have our own little secrets, do we not?"

"You are Royal?"

"By blood and by marriage. Not that it truly matters either way."

"And I suppose you will not give me your name?"

"I will not. Not yet."

Frigga exhales sharply, instinctively knowing no matter how hard she presses, she will get no further answers. For now, she'll just have to make due with the knowledge that, as the woman claims to be a Valkyrie for Hela, she can hardly expect her to be a threat to Evelyn and Loki. "You knew Evelyn was here," she states plainly instead, although the look she gives demands an answer.

The Valkyrie just snorts, entirely unfazed by the silent demand. "Healers do tend to make the worst sort of patients, and Lady Potter had a rather strong disdain for staying in a Healing Hall long before she trained to be a Healer herself. She went to the one person she feels safest with."

Now it's Frigga's turn to sigh, although hers is filled with exasperation. Somehow, she imagines that this will be an ongoing battle for a good many years that she is going to fight her future daughter over.

The Valkyrie laughs softly. "I wish you all the luck of the Realms on that front. You are going to need it."

"I survived raising a Jotun son with all of Asgard unawares," she retorts. "A stubborn daughter will be nothing new to me."

The Valkyrie openly grins at her. "Perhaps, but you've no experience currently with a member of House Potter. Hela likes to bemoan that they are a force unto themselves."

Frigga hums in the back of her throat. "We shall see." They stand in silence for a moment before she inquires, "You mentioned wanting to see my future daughter one last time before continuing on."

This sobers up the Valkyrie rather quickly. "Yes, I did." Her shoulders rise and fall as she draws in a deep breath before releasing it. "I have now witnessed the new beginning. Therefore, so too shall I witness the new end." A bittersweet smile graces her face. "It is something I alone must face, as I have no daughters yet to call my own. However, even if I did have them, this is not something I would let them experience."

This, of course, immediately puts Frigga on edge. "What end do you speak of?"

The bittersweet expression remains. "I cannot say. Just know this. I will be beside Evelyn Rosalie Potter every step of the way when the time comes." With that rather mysterious and frankly alarming parting shot, the Valkyrie inclines her head before disappearing back into the shadows.

Frigga remains standing where she is for a long moment, just soaking in the sight of her two children safe. Only once her heart has calmed somewhat does she too leave to find Eir and inform her that Evelyn had been found.

* * *

Comments always make me happy!


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I feel I should inform people not to always expect this quick of a turn around for chapters. I just had a bunch of this already written from earlier drafts, so it wasn't much work to edit it to fit what the story is now. Regardless, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Mischief of a Marauder**

Sirius Black is having a rather bad day, and _that_ is saying something.

Now, his normal days aren't anything to brag about. They usually consist of plotting ways to murder Wormtail should he ever get free, cursing himself for his stupidity at abandoning his goddaughter in her time of need, and mourning in what little ways he can the loss of the only true family he's ever known. The dementors don't help any, what with their sucking away every decent memory he _has_, thus leaving him to live with only the worst of them. Still, he survives because he knows he's innocent, not that that's a particularly happy thought right now.

But about why today is one of the actual bad days.

Just yesterday, the Aurors currently stationed here had started talking about the news taking their world by storm. His Evelyn, the beloved Girl-Who-Lived, has gone missing. Not only had Dumbledore apparently left her with bloody Petunia(who Sirius knows Lily would _never_ leave her child with, even if something prevented both him and Alice from taking custody of Evelyn, which did end up happening), but now, a month before her eleventh birthday, she's blown up the staircase in their home before disappearing into thin air along with her cousin. No one has any idea where they've gone to, and rumors are flying left and right about where that somewhere might be.

All Sirius is able to do is just sit and plan out how he's going to murder Petunia alongside Wormtail, because Merlin and Morgana, it's the scandal of the year! The Girl-Who-Lived kept in a cupboard underneath a Muggle staircase! Sirius had a very vivid dream last night of tearing out Petunia's throat. It was highly satisfying.

So when the shouting starts, he doesn't pay it much heed. The other inmates shout all the time, even if said shouts sound slightly more hysterical than usual if one actually pauses to consider them(and no one _does_).

It's when the lightning and thunder begin as it _pours_ that he starts truly paying attention. The weather at Azkaban is horrible to begin with but _this_, this is quickly bordering on ridiculous. Shortly after the storm whips itself into a frenzy, people start screaming. There's enough static in the air that he accidentally shocks himself by touching the metal door to his cell. Then the screams go abruptly silent, leaving behind only the sound of the wind whistling through the stone hallways. Everything about the situation has set his teeth on edge, so when his prison door explodes inwards, he feels well within his rights to let out a startled high-pitched squeak of fright.

"Brother, do calm down before you kill the man with a heart attack," an unknown male voice drawls. "Should that happen, I will be informing Evelyn that it is _your_ fault her godfather died in prison."

Sirius is scrambling to his feet the instant his goddaughter is mentioned. "Evelyn, you know where she is?" he demands hoarsely. He freezes momentarily as emerald green eyes so like Lily and Evelyn settle onto him, but he steels himself. There's no way he's backing down now at this point. Not with Evelyn on the line.

The green-eyed man raises an eyebrow, but answers his question. "Should she be where she promised, then in the gardens with my mother getting a lesson."

A head of golden hair peeks around the edge of the doorway. "Yes, and Mother won't be able to keep her occupied for long, so we should leave while there is still time," the new man cautions.

He might've been in Azkaban for a while, but that hasn't made Sirius stupid. If anything, it's made him _less_ stupid, because he isn't going to go charging off at the first opportunity anymore. "You'll take me to her? You'd swear to do that?"

If he's not mistaken, a glimmer of approval flashes through green eyes. "I swear to you that I will bring you to Evelyn Rosalise Potter, and may my magic forsake me if I lead you astray."

Well, he'll take that, given that he's not really in any sort of position to make any further demands. "So mote it be." It's a peculiar feeling, feeling the magic bound oath settle into place after over tens years of not really using his own magic beyond shifting to and from Padfoot to avoid the dementors.

"Right then, can you walk unaided?"

It takes a moment for the question to register, and even longer before Sirius realizes it's directed towards him. "Can I what?"

"Can you walk unaided?" the man repeats. "I will have my brother carry you if we must, but we are leaving with you now, one way or another."

Even battered and drained as he is, Sirius still has his pride. He's always vowed that when he leaves this prison, it'll be under his own power. "I'll bloody well walk myself out, thanks."

"Very well then." His rescuer jerks his head towards the outside while taking a step backwards to clear the doorway. "Whenever you're ready."

It's that statement that makes the enormity of the situation hit him like a Bludger to the head. He actually leaving Azkaban. Really, truly leaving. Mercifully, neither man says a word as Sirius draws in a startled gasp of breath. They just patiently wait for him to sort himself out. It takes a few deep breaths, but he finally feels steady enough to go. The high of taking that first step out of his cell feels like he's freefalling through the clouds on his broom.

Of course, then he has to go and remember the dementors. Or, rather, the lack of them. He's cold, because he's on a gods forsaken rock in the middle of the ocean, but not dementor cold. A look down the hall tells him why. There's a falcon patronus hovering in midair, beating its wings furiously at the dementors gathered at the end of the hallway.

"Who's—"

"That would be mine," the green eyed man states with fondness. He holds out an arm, and as if it were a real falcon, the patronus banks back and lands on the offered perch. Sirius swears to himself that it almost looks solid enough to touch, but he's never heard of a patronus doing that before. "I had a rather good teacher and some excellent memories to draw from."

This, for some reason, makes the blond man gag. "There are some things, brother, I am much better off not knowing, and that is one of them."

A rather sly smile spreads across the other man's lips. "I'll have you know, I have no need to draw from _those_ particular memories. Our wedding day is more than enough." The blond huffs, but makes no further comment. "Shall we?"

After eyeing the dementors one last time, Sirius agrees. "Yeah, let's go."

The green eyed man starts off towards the exit, and Sirius falls into step behind him with the blond taking up the rear. It's only when they pass another cell that Sirius realizes all the other inmates are silent. No one is making a sound as they pass by.

"Well, that's just bloody creepy," he mutters to himself.

A "Hm?" is tossed back at him.

"They're all quiet," he points out. "It's never this quiet."

"Ah, that would be my fault," the green eyed man states blandly. "Their shouting was annoying me, so I silenced them. Also, there's no need for you to worry about any of them telling anyone who helped you escape. None of them will remember this little portion of time once we're gone from here."

Sirius can't help gaping at the man's back. The amount of power and precision necessary to accomplish all that is staggering.

"My brother is rather accomplished in the magic of mind arts," the blond man says softly from behind. Sirius twists his head to see him looking towards his brother with a solemn expression. "It is the result of having been under someone's control and forced to do things he still regrets to this day. Have no fear, Sirius Black, for if my brother says he will do something, then it will be done."

"Hadn't thought that far ahead, actually," he returns hoarsely.

The blond's expression morphs into sad understanding. "No, I don't suppose you would have. Just as well that we have my brother for that."

"Yes, I do tend to think further ahead than you," the other man drawls, stopping just short of the doorway outside where the storm still rages. "Brother, if you would be so kind?" While Sirius doesn't understand what's being asked, the blond does, as he proceeds to step out into the storm and raise his hand. There's a flash of lightning followed by a booming clap of thunder, and then silence. "Quickly now." Sirius' arm is grabbed and he's steered out onto the bare rock.

"Heimdell, we're ready!" the blond calls out.

The green eyed man plants himself and Sirius right by his brother before he warns, "I would suggest bracing yourself."

"Brace my—?" The world around him dissolves into a dizzying display of rainbow colors as he feels like he goes hurling into the air. How long it lasts, he's never able to say. When his feet hit solid ground again, his legs buckle out from underhead him. "Bloody hell, what _was_ that?" he groans, pressing his face into the cool metal he's lying on. He squeezes his eyes shut while attempting to settle his rolling stomach.

"The Bifrost can be a bit tricky when one isn't used to it."

"The Bi-what?"

"Open your eyes, Sirius Black, and look."

Suppressing another groan, Sirius lifts his head and is suddenly quite thankful he's already on the ground. Before him is a rainbow bridge that stretches out across a vast rolling sea while in the distance there's a majestic golden city filled with towers reaching for the sky. A hand enters his line of sight and he's helped to his feet by the green eyed man.

"Welcome to the Realm Eternal, welcome to Asgard."

Sirius blinks, letting that knowledge roll around in his head for a moment before blinking again. "What?"

The man smirks. "We never did introduce ourselves." He offers his hand again and Sirius automatically takes it. "I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard. My oaf of a brother over there is Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard."

Sirius stares at him for a long second. "_What_?"

"I told you we should've introduced ourselves before now," Thor grumbles.

Loki waves away Thor's comment. "We'd've never left Azkaban in a timely manner had we done that, and you were correct in stating that Mother can keep Evelyn occupied for only so long. I still intend for this to be a surprise for her, which will be ruined should she come looking for us."

"This isn't some sort of joke?" Sirius chokes out.

Loki fixes him with a solemn look. "Whether you believe me or not is for you to decide, but I swore to you that I'd take you to Evelyn. As my magic has not let left me, you ought to know that I still intend to do just that. Thor," He looks to his brother, "go ready the horses."

Thor raises an eyebrow, but inclines his head. "As you wish."

"Now, there are two things I will have you do before I take you to your goddaughter, and that is simply so you don't scare her. A bath to begin washing Azkaban away, and a quick meal. After that, my word that I will take you to her."

Seeing as he has no desire to scare Evelyn the first time that he sees her since James and Lily died, and he'd really rather not be filthy anymore, Sirius agrees.

* * *

After a hot bath that feels heavenly, new clothes, and a simple yet hearty meal, Loki leads Sirius into a series of gardens. They remind him of the ones his mum(Dorea Potter, not that bitch Walburga) kept at the manor. It makes him homesick for a family he's never getting back. However, he shoves such thoughts to the side. He's getting his pup back. That'll have to be enough for now.

"They're just over there," Loki murmurs, peering around the pillar he stopped at. "If you'll wait here a moment, I'll go fetch her."

Sirius inhales shakily and manages to jerk out a nod.

Loki gives him a knowing look before slipping out of side.

"Loki!" Evelyn's voice is familiar enough that Sirius staggers sideways at the sound of it. He has to brace himself against the pillar to stay upright. "Come see what Frigga's been teaching us!"

"I'm sure, whatever it is, you're magnificent at it, darling, but I have a present for you first." Loki says. For some reason, the tone of voice that Loki uses makes his godfather senses tingle. Why, he doesn't know, but they do, so he resolves to pay close attention to how those two interact. He did promise James that he'd look out for his baby girl, and he's not about to mess that up a second time.

"A present?" The lilt of her question is all Lily, but Sirius just bets she tilts her head like James. The image conjured makes his heart ache for all that he's eager to actually see it. "Loki, I don't need—"

Loki cuts her off. "It's not something I have any intention of returning, so you're just going to have to make due."

"Prat. So where is this present?"

"Right around the pillar over there."

Sirius knows he said he'd wait for Loki to bring Evelyn to him, but he suddenly finds he can't wait a second longer. So he steps out from behind the pillar and into the sunlight. The sight of her stops him dead in his tracks.

Lily's red hair glows in the sunlight, framing emerald green eyes on James' face. She's wearing clothing similar to what Sirius has seen other people wearing, only much more intricately designed, which makes sense given that she's staying with the bloody Royal Family. Behind her are two other people, one boy around her age that Sirius reckons is her cousin, and a woman who can only be Loki and Thor's mother. Both have remained seated while Evelyn is walking next to Loki, looking up at him with an expression of love and exasperation Sirius saw many a time on Lily directed towards James. However, when he moves into her line of sight, she herself stops.

"Loki?" Her voice goes ridiculously high as she stares at him in obvious disbelief. Disbelief of what, Sirius couldn't say.

"Surprise," Loki says a touch dryly. "Do you like it?"

She raises a trembling hand to her mouth. "You—you broke—"

"Hi Evie." Sirius gives her the best smile he can manage. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm—"

"Sirius!"

She flings herself at him, sobbing for some reason. Sirius scrambles to catch her, but they end up dropping to the ground. It's then that their skin finally touches and some form of magic flares up from Evelyn to envelope him. His grip on her tightens instinctively, but he's gasping for breath as he vividly remembers the green light that Bellatrix shot at him. He hadn't dodged, and he recalls Evelyn's blood splattered face staring at him as the rest of the world faded away. Now he's on his knees with her in his arms, only she looks like she's eight when she's supposed to be nearly sixteen. Also, her hair was _black_ last he checked, not the red she'd had as a baby.

Then Evelyn yanks herself back and looks up at him with wide eyes. "Oh my god," she breathes. "Oh my—Sirius?"

"You're supposed to be fifteen," is what he stupidly says as opposed to the myriad of questions now whirling around in his head. Like why the hell he's seeing her again when he's very certain he just got himself killed by his insane cousin. If she got herself killed trying to avenge him, they are going to have to have a rather unpleasant talk in just a bit. After he figures out just what the hell is going on.

"Alskling, what did you just _do_?" Loki's voice reminds him that they're not alone. Sirius jerks his gaze up to see the man standing over them, concern and worry spread across his face.

"The Soul Magic, it just—I think it just gave Sirius his memories back," she says, appearing absolutely dumbfounded.

"What memories?" Sirius parrots back, even more confused now.

"I thought he'd been dead for twenty four years."

Evelyn huffs. "Yeah, well Thor had been dead for three and he still remembered."

"Yes, but he was near me when my soul returned," Loki counters in this insane argument they're having. "Sirius Black was nowhere near either of us."

Evelyn twists in Sirius' arms to glare up at the man. "You think I have any why it did this? _You're_ the one who suggested we use it in the first place! If anything, it's _your_ fault all this weird shit keeps happening!"

Loki merely raises an eyebrow. "And yet, it is inevitably Potter Luck that truly is the reason things don't go quite the way I planned."

"You had better not be planning on using my bloody luck as blame for everything that goes sideways in our marriage, Odinson," Evelyn snaps back.

"Whoa, you are too young to be talking about marriage!" Sirius protests, yanking her back against his chest.

"Sirius," Evelyn says softly, "I lived for twenty four years after you died." She gently but firmly pushes herself away and gets to her feet. For some reason, she takes a simple pendant out of her pocket and fastens it around her neck. Sirius' jaw drops when she shimmers, and her eightish year old body morphs into that of a full grown woman. "I grew up, Padfoot. I grew up and had a life and got married."

"And Voldemort?"

Evelyn smirks, practically brimming with confidence. "Him I dealt with three years after that debadical in the Department of Mysteries. You are looking at Lady Evelyn Rosalie of House Potter, House Black, House Gryffindor, and House Slytherin, the Girl-Who-Lived, the Woman-Who-Conquered, the Savior and Chosen One of the Wizarding World." She pulls a face. "Stars that's _still_ a fucking mouthful."

"You forgot Mistress of Death," Loki points out blandly, but that just makes Sirius' heart lurch dangerously in his chest, "as your Wizarding World likes to call being Hela's Avatar."

"You have the Hallows?"

Evelyn shakes her head. "I did, but not anymore for all that they still apparently answer solely to me." She kneels back down in front of him and takes one of his hands in hers. "Sirius, it's _1991_ again. I'm due to start my first year at Hogwarts in two months."

"That's not possible," he retorts flatly. He knows about the Time Turners, but there's no actual way to do what Evelyn is suggesting happened.

She smiles sadly at him. "It is because we used Soul Magic to send my soul back in time. There was nothing left, Padfoot. Nothing left but dust and ruin and war." She bows her head, but not before Sirius sees the tears welling up in her eyes. "I was dying and Loki refused to accept that. So he gave me everything he had left and I woke up four nights ago back under the stairs on Privet Drive."

"There was _another_ war?" Sirius feels rather indignant that his goddaughter somehow got dragged into another war so soon after the last one apparently ended, and he doesn't doubt that it was probably for a similarly stupid reason like blood purity.

"Not a wizard's war," Loki corrects his unspoken assumption instead of Evelyn. "A war that encompased all the Nine Realms. It started when the Realms were thrown out of alignment and everything descended into chaos after that. Evelyn and I, we attempted to fix it, but I fear we were already too late when Svartalfheim collapsed in on itself. We fought to save those we could, but in the end we were the last two remaining from our group. I used Soul Magic because we had nothing left to lose." He kneels as well to be able to wrap an arm around Evelyn's shoulders. "It was a surprise that Thor and Dudley remembered, but I assumed it was because they were near us when the Soul Magic returned us. I honestly hadn't expected anyone else to be able to."

One of Evelyn's hands darts out to grab ahold of Loki. "Thor, Dudley, and Sirius were three people I considered family, and you sent me back so that I could _save_ my family." She lifts her head and looks at Loki with wide, tear filled eyes. "Do you think—" She chokes on a sob, unable to finish her sentence.

"Perhaps, love, perhaps," Loki murmurs, gathering her up into his arms with such tenderness that Sirius honestly feels like he's intruding on a private moment. "We won't know until we try, unfortunately, but it just might work."

"Remus, then," she states firmly through her tears. "I want Remus if only so that I can chew the bastard out about Teddy and Tonks."

Loki drops a kiss to the top of her head. "As you wish, alskling."

"Don't tell me that wolf finally got off his arse and talked to my cousin," Sirius interjects in an effort to lighten the mood.

Evelyn barks out a watery laugh. "Talked to her, married her, and even had a kid, for all that I had to yell at him when he got scared about impending fatherhood. Theodore Remus Lupin was the cutest baby I ever laid eyes on. The bastard made me godmother though, which turned out to be a good thing since both he and Tonks got themselves killed at the last battle before I offed Voldemort." She scrubs away her tears before smiling weakly at him. "I raised him from infancy as my own. He always knew he wasn't mine by blood, but I told him stories of the Marauders and of the Order of the Phoenix, so he knew his father and he knew that his parents died so that he could have a better life." Her smile becomes bittersweet. "And mercifully, I was fully able to relate to him when there were the inevitable tantrums about the anger and the pain and the unfairness of it all, which usually sent Draco running for cover."

Sirius' lips pull back in a sneer of disgust. "You raised Moony's kid with _Malfoy_?"

Evelyn, of all things, bares her teeth right back at him. "No, I raised _my_ child with Draco Regulus Black. He taught us about Pureblood customs and I taught them how to survive and enjoy the Muggle World. You don't get to judge who I raised my child with and how we did it because both you and Moony fucking _died_! You died and left me alone again, so I did what I had to do to keep myself sane! And since that ended up being raising Teddy together with Draco, _I bloody well did just that_!"

"Enough." Loki's mother finally stands, and Sirius abruptly remembers that for Loki to be a prince, that means his mother is a fucking _Queen_. "Sweetling, calm yourself," she instructs while maneuvering Evelyn out of Loki's arms and into her own. "You have only just recovered from being sick. I will not have you relapsing from a fit of temper." She fixes Sirius with a bland look that has him shrinking back, something only his mum and Professor McGonagall have ever successfully managed until now. "My son, should you wish for this man to remain in Asgard, I would suggest explaining that I will not tolerate disrespect of any sort towards my future daughter." With that parting shot, the woman whisks Evelyn away, leaving Sirius alone with Loki and Evelyn's cousin who he's suddenly not so sure about.

"Well _that_ could've gone better," the cousin sighs from where he's still seated. "Did you honestly have to question her parenting? You weren't there, so you never saw the sacrifices both Eve and Draco made for that kid."

"It's _Malfoy_," he mutters indignantly, like that's all the excuse he needs.

"And yet, from what Eve told me, Draco was the one who spearheaded the campaign of equal rights for werewolves and their families in your world. _He_ was the one who pushed through laws for just that purpose. _He_ was the one who clued Eve into the fact that she could set up a foundation to supply all werewolves in Great Britain with some potion that apparently makes their transformation easier. All for that kid you said he shouldn't've helped raise."

"And from what _I_ remember, my goddaughter wouldn't give you the time of day, so what's all this buddy buddy nonsense?" SIrius demands, because he still remembers Evelyn's furious tears over explaining the dementor incident that landed her that ridiculous hearing at the Ministry.

The boy fixes him with an utterly flat look. "Like Eve said, we grew up. For me, that meant getting my shit together and moving away from my parents and their frankly terrible opinions about my cousin and the world in general. I got help and, with Eve, worked through our appalling childhood. We fixed our relationship, and while she swore to never set foot on Privet Drive ever again, I visited just once a year out of obligation." He smiles grimly. "It was more to remind myself why exactly I'd left, seeing as they never changed. I love them, they're still my mum and dad, but that doesn't mean I trust or like them. Eve accepted that, seeing as I never once tried to make her come along on those visits.

"And for your information, Black, Draco rejected all aspects of his Malfoy heritage after the war. Hence the whole _Draco Regulus Black_ name thing. He was Heir Black to Eve's Lady Black. As to why I know all this, cause I can see it in your face, who do you think helped Eve introduce Teddy and Draco to my world?" He stands, brushing dirt off his pants. "I'd suggest some serious soul searching if you don't want to offend Eve every time you open your bloody mouth."

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Comments always make me happy!


	13. Chapter 13

Many apologies for the delay in getting this chapter written and out! I was gonna do NaNoWriMo last year and tried to get this done before then, which obviously didn't happen, but then I went and got sick and that unfortunately killed all the muses. I finally put my foot down and told myself, "You're writing this chapter, damn it!" And here we are.

Enjoy and happy very belated new year!

* * *

**Chapter 13: Of apologies and tears and promises**

"I fucked up."

Evelyn sniffs, contemplating only briefly the idea of ignoring her godfather. However, she's still somewhat riding the high of the knowledge that she can get her family back. Just the mere possibility of having the people she fought and bled beside able to look at her and _know_ is enough for her to forgive Sirius' blunders. And, in the corner of her mind, she knows he was only working off of knowledge he thought was current. He truly had no way of knowing just how much had changed for them, for _her_. She'd just gotten caught up in the sudden swell of emotions and completely overreacted.

"You did," she agrees, "but so did I. None of us went into that situation prepared, so the blame is on all of us." She turns from the window she's been gazing out of to fix him with a look. "Do it again after I tell of my life and I will be far less forgiving."

He gives her a tired, strained smile. "You really aren't my little Prongslet anymore, are you?"

Evelyn sighs, patting the seat beside her. She waits until Sirius is settled before burrowing into his side, as her real size makes it so she fits perfectly there. "I'll always be your Prongslet, just like you'll always be my Padfoot, but I can't reiterate enough that I _grew up_, Sirius. I grew up and lived my life and made decisions based on who and what was left to me. You might not like or approve of some of them, but they're choices _I_ made and had to live with, not you. I know you didn't mean to, but you and Remus left me, and Draco was the one who really picked up all of my broken pieces and put them back together again."

Her godfather makes a gagging sound while his arm around her tightens briefly. "Yeah, your, urgh, _husband_ explained that to me."

She barely manages to stifle her laughter. "Would thinking of him as my betrothed help? Seeing as we aren't actually currently married but do plan to?"

"We'll see," he mutters.

A giggle escapes, and she presses a rapidly growing grin into his side.

"Did you actually get introduced to anyone, or did we all just yell at you?" she asks after they sit in silence for a few moments.

"Thor and Loki were the only ones who introduced themselves, but I can kind of guess your cousin's name, given how much you griped about him over summer break. Didn't expect him to defend Malfoy like he did." He blows out a breath that she hears rattle through his chest. "Never thought I'd see the day, a Muggle defending a Pureblood, and Heir Malfoy to boot."

"Dudley was a fucking arse when we were children, and he'll admit to such. We finally decided to go to therapy together when just talking was getting us nowhere and usually just descended into yelling."

"He informed me of that, among other things."

Evelyn huffs in exasperation. "I seem to collect ridiculously overprotective males wherever I go. I'll make sure they don't do that again."

Sirius barks out a slightly bitter laugh. "Eve, I think there's probably going to be a bunch of back and forth between all of us for a while. Don't think that's avoidable at this point."

She pulls back to scowl up at him. "Then you boys had better make sure to keep that out of my sight and hearing." She knows better than to demand that they don't fight. They're all headstrong males rather set in their ways. They're going to butt against each other with each thinking the others are wrong. It's because she's pretty sure most of their fights are going to in some way be about her that she wants nothing to do with said impending fights. She's had enough of people fighting about her and because of her.

Her godfather's expression becomes one of pained understanding. "Had enough fighting, eh, pup?"

Evelyn blows out a huff of air that stirs the curls framing her face. "Fighting, unfortunately, is something that I think is always going to be a part of my life." As Hela's Avatar, she's not sure there truly is anyway to avoid it, what with Hela being the Goddess of Death and all. "However, that doesn't mean I'm going to tolerate or make myself endure listening to people fight about me in any way, shape, or form." She pulls a disgruntled face. "Dumbledore cured me of that, if nothing else."

"Pup, Dumbledore—"

She holds up a hand to stop him. "Please, let's wait until Remus is here before we attempt to go at it over Dumbledore and his decisions. A great leader he might have been, that doesn't mean I approve of some of the decisions he made, given that the vast majority of them affected me." Now she takes one of Sirius' hands in hers and squeezes. "I promise, I will lay bare everything that happened to me, but I'd really rather only have to do it once." Her breath hitches unintentionally. "I made it through that war, but some of it…" She bows her head and presses into her godfather so she can hear his heartbeat. "Some of it really _really_ sucked."

"Okay, Prongslet, I'll wait," Sirius murmurs.

"Thank you," she whispers. They sit there in silence for a bit as Evelyn just basks in the fact that Sirius is actually _alive_. "Right then." She heaves a huge sigh while moving away, even though she doesn't really want to. "We should probably go find Loki before he reaches his limit."

Her godfather cocks his head to side in a rather dog-like manner. "Limit for what?"

"I was dying in his arms before he used Soul Magic, and he only just got me back. Take a guess," Evelyn says a touch dryly.

Sirius' expression becomes pinced. "I'd really rather not."

"Fair enough." She pats his hand still in her grip once before letting go and getting to her feet. "Come on, we should be able to find him fairly quickly, and if not, we can just ask." She has to rein in the instinct to just reach out via her magic to try and locate her husband. The subtle ache near her heart flares painfully anytime she does, and it _lingers_.

It turns out that they don't have to go hunting for anyone.

As Evelyn rounds the corner, she runs straight into Thor. With a surprised yelp, she nearly tumbles over backwards. It's only the fact that both Thor and Sirius lunge to steady her that prevents her from hitting the ground.

"Don't do that!" she squawks, stupidly hitting Thor's arm in retaliation. She immediately starts shaking her hand, the sting on her palm making her curse under her breath. "Fucking _hell_, you'd think I'd've learned to _not_ hit any of you freakishly fit males in my life." She scowls down at her still tingling palm.

"My apologies," Thor murmurs, a faint smile playing at his lips, "but I do agree that you really ought to have learned that by now."

Evelyn fixes him with a withering look. "Real helpful, thanks."

Thor's chuckles seems to rumble in the air around them. "You're welcome. I assume you were going to be looking for my brother?"

"No, I got myself a new mischief maker," Evelyn deadpans before scoffing. "Of _course_ I'm looking for your brother. It's not like I know a lot of people around here."

"True enough. In any event, I am here at Mother's request. She's decided that it would be beneficial to have a luncheon together." Here Thor tips his head in Sirius' direction. "And to have Eir look your godfather over as soon as possible."

When Sirius pulls a face at the mere idea, Evelyn pats him on the arm as she knows exactly what he's probably thinking right now. "She's already looked me over. Just behave and it'll be over quickly."

"You shouldn't have needed looking over," Sirius mutters under his breath.

"Yeah, well, neither should you, and yet here we both are," Evelyn retorts back. "I'm doing it because I'd like to be taller and not have to worry about any health issues later in life. I'd suggest going with it if you want any chance at all of convincing the Ministry that you _aren't_ a murdering raving lunatic."

"You may argue over it later, but I do believe Mother will win in the end," Thor interjects, placing a hand on both of their shoulders and applying a bit of pressure to get them both to start walking. "And I don't think we should keeping my brother waiting much longer."

"No, no we really shouldn't," Evelyn agrees.

* * *

Lunch ends up being in the same garden as before. Frigga even has the blanket spread out underneath the same apple tree. When the three of them step into sight, Loki all but jumps to his feet and sweeps Evelyn up into a hug that lifts her off _her_ feet.

"Are you alright now, alskling?" His voice shudders through her.

Evelyn buries her face into his shoulder, breathing him in. "Better," she mumbles, allowing herself to cling just for a moment. "Down please, I need to do proper introductions."

"Can't you do that from here?" he grumbles back, tightening his grip on her.

She points out the rather obvious, "I can't see anyone," with her face still smooshed into his shoulder. And she still won't be able to see anyone if she lifts her head.

Loki heaves a sigh, shoulders slumping, but he sets her back on her feet. She holds on just long enough to be able to gently bump her forehead against his. A little bit of tension slides off his shoulders, but enough that he gifts her with a small but true smile. The one she gives back is most likely blinding, because Loki chuckles softly.

Assured that her husband is okay for the time being, Evelyn turns so she can latch back onto Sirius. He just gives her a bemused look, not attempting to dislodge her as she clamps onto his arm. "Guys, I'm sure you're already aware, but this is my godfather, Sirius Black. He's already apologized for the things he said to me, and I've apologized for the things I said to him, so no _picking_ on him." Well, not really apologized to each other so much as acknowledged that they both screwed up, but she's willing to roll with that for now. Her Healer training makes her realize that it'll be a bit before she can expect a true, genuine apology that Sirius means beyond just having upset her. She sees Dudley sporting a slightly mutinous expression, which she quells with a glare. "Sirius, you've met my future husband, Loki—"

"Future husband?" Loki interrupts indignantly.

Evelyn sighs. "I'm trying to be nice to Sirius' delicate sensibilities." She feels more than sees her godfather puff up just as indignantly as her husband.

"Delicate sensibilities? _What_ delicate sensibilities?" he demands. "I'm a Marauder! We don't have delicate sensibilities!

She pulls back to be able to see his face before drawling out, "_Husband_." He pulls a face just like she expected him to. "_Those_ delicate sensibilities," she states, pointing a finger at him. "When you can hear me call Loki husband—" She nearly snorts when he does it _again_, "—without doing that I won't say you have delicate sensibilities." She's pleased that Loki's outright grinning now. "Moving right along, we have Loki's brother Thor, their mother Queen Frigga, and my cousin Dudley Dursley. I've already informed Sirius of this, but if you boys plan on having any shouting matches that are about me, do it out of my range of sight and hearing. Otherwise, I _will_ yell back and trust me, I _will_ win."

"So noted," Thor says a touch dryly, inclining his head before sitting down next to Dudley.

"Sweetling, your medicine," Frigga murmurs, jestering to three corked bottles.

Now it's Evelyn's turn to make a face because the potions are nasty. She's been taking them for the past two days with every meal. They're to help her gain weight while the ones Dudley is taking are to help him lose it. Regardless, they both agree the potions are vile for all that they're necessary. She grumbles profanities under her breath, but dutifully downs all three without gagging before dropping the empty bottles beside what she assumes are Dudley's empty potion bottles.

"I am going to be _so_ happy once Eir says I don't have to take those anymore," she mutters, grabbing a plate and starting to snag any food that looks good. Because of the potions, she's eating a bit more than she's used to. Dudley, on the other hand, is making use of his former education to grab food that won't add too much extra weight onto what he's already trying to work off. Sirius, after gingerly lowering himself down, just picks at the minimal food on the plate that Thor passes him. She forcibly reminds herself that her godfather _just_ got out of Azkaban. Trying to shove food down his throat to rectify his gaunt state will do more harm than good at the moment.

"As will I, but most likely for very different reasons," Loki agrees, settling himself on the blanket beside her. She automatically curls herself into him, still slightly disgruntled with her current size. However, she's not about to waste the pendant's time on something as simple as lunch now, not when it takes so freaking long to recharge.

"Tell me, daughter, who is this other man you wish to bring to Asgard?" Frigga inquires while filling up her own plate.

Evelyn lets a fond smile spread across her lips. "Remus Lupin was one of my father's childhood friends from Hogwarts along with Sirius. He ended up being one of my teachers my third year at Hogwarts and he's the reason I was able to save myself and Sirius at the end of that year."

"Fucking dementors," Sirius mutters under his breath. With his plate resting on the blanket, both his knuckles are bone white from how hard he's clenching his hands closed. Evelyn reaches over to lay a hand over his, only then feeling the faint trembling that's not visible. She's pretty sure that the grimace Sirius gives her is supposed to be a smile. She graciously don't point that little fact out.

"Eve," Dudley abruptly pipes up, "am I going to be able to see those creepy things now?"

Evelyn blinks once, mules over the thought, then pulls a face. "I'm teaching you the Patronus Charm as soon as possible," she states flatly.

"Prongslet, you're both eleven," Sirius points out. "The Patronus Charm is rather difficult for anyone to learn, let alone kids."

Rather than remind him again that she did it at thirteen her first go round on top of teaching her classmates at fifteen, Evelyn just lets her actions speak for themselves. She takes a moment to center herself and draw up an appropriate memory. Only then does she whisper, "Expecto Patronum." A rush of warmth washes over her as her magic gathers briefly in the palms of her cupped hands before dancing into the air behind her. There's the quiet sound of grass crunching underneath hooves and then a soft velvet muzzle presses up against her cheek. She lets her eyes flutter close as she leans into the touch.

"Oh my god," she hears Dudley breathe out over Sirius choking on air.

"You still haven't informed me why Midgardian magic users do that whenever you show off your Patronus," Loki mutters.

Evelyn tilts her head back so she can smirk up at her husband. "A corporeal Patronus isn't usually _solid_, darling. Not even Dumbledore managed that."

"I had no idea those of Midgard could call upon their soul guardians," Frigga comments, making Evelyn whip her head around to gawk at her mother-in-law in shock. The Queen smiles knowingly at Evelyn's unspoken question. "When traveling along the branches of Yggdrasil was more common, magicians would call out their soul guardians to ward off the dangers that lurk in the darkness." She tips head towards the stag. "You must be very close with yours for him to be solid as he is."

Now it's Evelyn's turn to choke. "It's my father," she whispers. Prongs, as she'd taken to calling her Patronus, nuzzles against her before stepping around the blanket towards Sirius who's staring with tears rolling down his cheeks. "He could shift into a stag just like that."

"I never—" Sirius' breath hitches as he reaches out a shaky hand. "I never knew—" He shudders when his hand touches Prongs' muzzle.

"You were a little busy getting your soul sucked out of your body to notice the first time I managed it," Evelyn points out when her godfather can't finish his sentence. "I was just relieved we both survived, so never actually thought to tell you about it later." She sucks in a deep breath. "You were right, you know. That night, what you told me before you flew off on Buckbeak." She waits until Sirius looks at her before continuing. "The ones who love us never really leave us. You can always find them in here." She thumps a hand over her heart. "I've always believed, ever since then, that Mum guards my magic and Dad my soul. It helped when things got rough."

When she sees that Sirius looks like he's honestly going to start crying, Evelyn sets down her own plate of food before curling up against him again. She lets Prongs fade away, for all that the stag is a warm, comforting presence. Evelyn figures that Sirius is a bit too raw at the moment. Her godfather crumples, wrapping his arms tightly around her as he shakes.

"I'm sorry, Eve, I'm so—"

Evelyn just sighs, deciding to wait until Sirius wears himself out before trying to say anything. This isn't what she'd intended to happen when she'd cast her Patronus. Mercifully, no one tries to break the moment, and Evelyn even feels a mild muffling barrier courtesy of her husband rise up between the two of them and everyone else. She'll have to thank him for that later.

When Sirius' tears and shaking have subsided, she digs out a hanky she never got out of the habit of carrying—because Teddy was the child of a Marauder through and through, necessitating many a clean up during his younger years—and offers it to her godfather. When he opens his mouth again after blowing his nose, Evelyn immediately cuts him off.

"You've apologized enough, _no_," she informs him. "You didn't do any of what happened on purpose, so I need you to stop blaming yourself for it. I'll beat it into you if I have to." Age and distance helped her heal from a good deal of her childhood traumas. Having raised Teddy, she also somewhat understands Sirius' actions that Halloween night. She has Black blood in her as well. It can be an all consuming siren call when ignited. There's a reason the Wizarding World once feared the wrath of House Black.

"You're too good to me, Prongslet," Sirius chokes out.

Evelyn snorts. "Quite a few people would protest that statement, but I don't care for their opinions. Never have, never will. Now, are you still good for company or would you rather leave?"

Sirius barks out a bitter sounding laugh, wearily scrubbing a hand over his face. "While I'd love to stay, I think I'm about to keel over, and I'd really rather not do that."

"Alright then." A brush of her magic has the barrier dissolving away. She turns to face her mother-in-law. "Frigga, is Eir expecting Sirius in the Healing Hall or is she coming here?"

"I informed her that we would come to the Healing Hall when returning the potion bottles," the Queen says. "However, we may call her here if that is required."

Evelyn looks back to Sirius. "Think you can make it there?" She knows a thing or two about male pride, but she's not about to let that get in the way of making sure he's okay. Especially since he just mentioned keeling over.

Thor interjects before her godfather can answer. "I will assist Sirius Black to the Healing Hall should he require it. Otherwise, I will simply lead him there." He sets aside his cleared plate, stands up, and then offers a hand to Sirius. "Will that work for you?"

Sirius' lips twist into a wry smile. "Yeah, should do." He places a hand into Thor's offered one and lets the man pull him to his feet. "I'll see you later, pup?" What should be a statement of fact comes out sounding like a question.

"Count on it," she assures him.

They're all quiet as Thor gathers up the empty potion bottles before he and Sirius walk away, Thor maintaining just enough distance not to be hovering but close enough to intervene should Sirius need assistance. Thanks to Tony, they all perfected that particular dance. Stupid idiot never did learn, either. Evelyn huffs out a sigh, pushing the thought away before she can depress herself further.

Once they're both gone from view, Frigga fusses over her while pressing her plate back into her hands. "Now then, sweetling, you never did finish telling me about this Remus Lupin and why exactly you wish to bring here to Asgard."

* * *

She stands at the infirmary bedside of the scarred and battered man out cold under the covers. It's the morning after the full moon three days after Sirius was sprung from Azkaban, and Remus Lupin is now safely in Asgard. His wounds are tended to and Eir assures her that he's sleeping peacefully. She continues to stare at him like she has been for the past couple of minutes, not moving.

"You're going to have to touch him."

Evelyn hisses out a breath through clenched teeth. "I _know_ that!" She just barely resists the urge to whack her husband. She doesn't know exactly why she's hesitating. Oh, who's she trying to kid. Of course she does. She's very _very_ worried that Sirius was just a flook. A one off and no one else is going to remember. Touching Remus will tell her if that's true or not, and she's not ready for that fear to be proven right.

And yet.

And yet until she does, she's going to be suspended in a stupid loop of worry and fear that she'd really rather not get stuck in. Just this once, she's going to bet on her Potter Luck working in her favor.

She reaches out and brushes her fingertips lightly over Remus' forehead. The instant they touch, the Soul Magic now deeply intertwined with her own magic flares into life and jumps from her to Remus. He sighs softly, but doesn't wake up.

"Well then," Loki murmurs, curling a hand over her shoulder and squeezing gently. "It looks like we'll be getting our family back after all."

Evelyn smiles widely through the tears she has to blink away. "Yeah." She sucks in a cleansing breath, willing her hand to stop shaking as she draws it back. "Yeah, it looks like we will."


	14. Chapter 14

I apologize for the two month delay between chapters, but the Star Wars fandom pulled me in and whisked me off to a galaxy far, far away! On top of that, this chapter ended up with a bunch of feels that kept hitting me right in the gut after I thought, "I'm fine." Lies. Utter lies.

Also, holy shit, it'll be a year since I posted the first chapter in nine days?! It doesn't seem like that long?!

Enjoy!

**Chapter 14: Where's My Werewolf?**

The first thing Remus notices is the absence of any pain.

Pain has been his constant companion since Fenrir Greyback attacked, so the lack of pain is somewhat jarring. His limbs feel loose and relaxed, and that's another thing he hasn't experienced in a while. The war hadn't allowed for any relaxation. Not even the precious month he'd managed to spend with his wife and newborn son had had him this relaxed. Then again, newborn and relaxing don't exactly go hand in hand.

The second thing Remus notices is the fact that there's an abundance of magic in the air.

Moony makes him much more attuned to the ambient magic that's always present, but now it feels like a heavy blanket pressing down on him. It's not suffocating, but it's certainly _there_. He's never felt it like this anywhere before, not even at Hogwarts.

The third thing Remus notices is the _noise_.

It's not loud, it's not overwhelming, it's not much of anything really. It just _is_. It's there, and it's the sound of hustle and bustle of people calmly going about their business that usually fades to the background. It sounds like life.

It's very much _not_ what he's expecting to be hearing after seeing that green light coming towards him.

Because of all of this, he's almost afraid to open his eyes. Open his eyes and see just where exactly he is. But then again, he's also a Marauder, and if he thinks about it long enough, he'll probably be able to hear James and Sirius taunting him about being unable to just bloody _look_.

So he does.

He pries his eyes open and finds himself staring blearily at a golden ceiling unlike anything he's ever seen before. He blinks stupidly up at it, trying to figure out who the hells would have a house like this and who would be willing to spend money on a werewolf on top of that. Unfortunately, he can't think of a single person (well, there's always Eve on the money front, but given that he has no bloody clue how the battle at Hogwarts panned out after whatever spell hit him, he tries not to dwell on that line of thought for too long). So he pushes himself upright and gawks around what is clearly a hospital wing.

"I was warned that you might be stubborn, Mr. Lupin." A crisp, clean woman who gives Remus flashbacks to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts even with the lack of silver hair approaches. "However, it is good to see you awake. Tell me, are you experiencing any pain at the moment?"

"None." Something he's still rather befuddled by.

"Good." She turns slightly to address one of the few people around. "Halldis, go inform Lady Potter that her guest is awake."

"As you say, Healer Eir."

That, of course, immediately grabs Remus' attention. "Eve's here?" The knowledge that she survived the battle is immensely comforting. Not only is she the last bit of James and Lily left, but he can't imagine she'll have left Dora alone being Teddy's godmother and all. Since he has no bloody clue how long it's been since the attack, he's happy knowing his wife wouldn't have had to care for their son with just her mother for help.

The woman—Eir—inclines her head. "It is because of her that you are currently under my care, Mr. Lupin." She sniffs delicately. "Stubborn girl that she is, she refused to leave your side for all that _she_ sought to escape when she herself was here."

Yeah, that does sound exactly like Eve. She comes by it honestly, though. James had been much the same. Madam Pomfrey had had to threaten to spell him to the bed whenever he landed himself in the hospital wing, but if one of them was in there? She'd had to physically throw him out.

"Where am I, exactly?"

"Lady Potter requested that she be the one to explain your current situation," Eir informs him, which confuses him because what exactly is there to explain? She sighs minutely, obviously catching sight of his confusion. "While I will by no means claim to understand what all has transpired to Lady Potter since you last saw each other, it is a trying tale that has led us all to this point in time. Please do try to keep that in mind when you finally hear what has happened."

Ah, Remus sees where this is going.

He shoots her a rueful smile. "I take it Potter Luck struck again?"

"Indeed," Eir huffs, looking entirely put upon by the very idea. "Although I highly doubt anyone expected anything of _this_ magnitude."

Remus snorts out an unexpected chuckle. "I've found that Potter Luck rarely conforms to what any of us want it to be. James—" Remus' breath hitches momentarily. "James could get into some spectacular situations that, had it been anyone else, would've ended very differently."

"Well then, it is just as well that we have another who seems to understand the oddness that inevitably follows Lady Potter around. Stars know the Princes get into enough mischief as it is all by themselves. I shudder considering what will be wrought now with Lady Potter at their sides."

"All sorts of chaos, Lady Eir, and lots of it too."

Remus nearly tumbles out of the bed he's in at the sound of Evelyn's happy voice. She's standing in a doorway, green eyes bright with unshed tears. The red tangle of curls hanging over a shoulder is a surprise, because he distinctly remembers it being cropped short and black last he saw her, but he's willing to overlook it for the time being, because she's _alive_.

"Eve?" he embarrassingly croaks out.

She ducks her head briefly while drawing in a shuddering breath before approaching. "Hey Moony," she whispers, sinking into a chair he hadn't noticed earlier. "How are you doing?"

"I don't hurt, which I have to tell you, feels rather bloody odd," he states blandly, desperately wishing to reach out and touch her, but not sure if she'd welcome that. She seems so hesitant, which is weird because he's never known her to be hesitant about anything. "How are _you_?"

Here she gives him a watery but true smile. "Better now that you're here."

That, of course, makes Moony preen, because of _course_ his cub feels better with him around. It does nothing to explain anything about what's going on, however. "Eve, you—"

"We won the war," she interrupts him, now staring intently at her lap. "We won the war and I killed Riddle in the end." He wonders why she doesn't sound happier about that. "I killed that bloody bastard, but not without substantial losses on our side." She barks out a bitter sounding laugh that immediately raises his hackles. "Turned out to be a good thing you named me Teddy's godmother after all, Moony, given what ended up happening."

Remus abruptly feels his stomach drop. Dora had _promised_ him. She had promised she'd stay with her mother and Teddy, but the way Evelyn's talking, it's starting to sound like she _didn't_. "What happened?" he barely manages to get out past the rising lump in his throat.

Evelyn raises her head to fix him with a flat look that makes his skin crawl with all the contempt in it. "You _died_, Remus," she snarls and he recoils like she'd slapped him, too startled to actually further consider the implications of her statement because his cub sounds utterly destroyed and it's _his bloody fault_. "You and Tonks both, and I was left with a two month old baby to raise with no bloody idea of what to do. But I did it anyways, because that little boy became _mine_, and I made a vow to myself that he wouldn't suffer like I did. That he would grow up loved and cared for and never have any reason to second guess if he was wanted or not." She laughs again, brittle and sharp. "Course, I ended up breaking that promise anyways, despite my best efforts. I won one war only to get pulled into an even bigger one. One that encompassed all the Nine Realms. And at the end of it all, surrounded by death and dust and ruin, we were forced to use Soul Magic to try and do it all over again. It's the only bloody reason we're even _having_ this conversation, given how you _died_ on me!" She's standing now, chest heaving as she glares down at him with fiery indignation.

"I died?" he whispers hoarsely. There's so much more he could be questioning, especially that mention of Soul Magic, but right he's rather fixated on that particular detail from Evelyn's rant.

"Yes you bloody well died, you stupid werewolf! What did you _think_ happened, that you got hit with an Expelliarmus?" For some odd reason, she pulls a face the instant she says that. "Fucking hell," she mutters to herself, dragging a hand down her face.

"Alskling, are you finished yelling at your friend?"

Both Evelyn and Remus turn back to the doorway that Evelyn came through at the sound of another voice. Now there's a man standing where Evelyn stood previously. He somehow has Evelyn's (_Lily's_) striking green eyes. His clothing, though, that truly gives Remus pause. The women in this weird infirmary are all wearing what he'd thought were just oddly styled robes. This man, though. This man is near blatantly dressed for war, and he wears his armor with the ease of one used to its weight. And when he pushes himself away from the doorframe he's been leaning against, there's a coiled grace in his every step that practically screams _danger_ to Remus.

Evelyn scoffs, not at all intimidated by the obvious predator stalking towards her. "When have I _ever_ been finished after just that little?"

The man snorts, stopping at her side and sliding an arm around her waist with easy familiarity. "True enough. However, your other guest is becoming a tad anxious at the continued delay." His eyes flicker over to Remus, probably because of the low growl he's only just now realized is rumbling in his chest.

"Of course he is," she deadpans before whacking the man lightly on the arm, "and will you stop intimidating Remus before he decides to try and do something stupid? He has no idea who you are."

There's a teasing lilt in the man's voice as he replies with, "Hadn't gotten that far into your explanation, then?"

Evelyn inhales sharply before letting it all out in one big _whoosh_. It vividly reminds Remus of the times that Lily fought to control her temper. "Husband, _so help me_—"

"Husband?!" Remus sputters, because _what_? She's only bloody seventeen! She might be turning eighteen soon, but that's still too young in his mind for James' little girl to be _married_, pureblood traditions be damned. "Eve, you—you can't—you're just—"

A muscle jumps in Evelyn's jaw. "It's a bit alarming that you _both_ reacted near exactly the same," she mumbles half to herself. Then she seems to rally herself again. "Remus, how old do I look to you?"

Her question makes him actually look beyond just the obvious differences. She does seem a bit taller, and she holds herself with a confidence she'd been lacking before. She's grown into herself, something that doesn't just happen overnight. And her eyes. Remus finally sees the same look in her eyes he's seen in his own every morning since that fateful Halloween day. The look of someone who's lost everything and everyone and has somehow managed to continue living.

"Too old," is what unfortunately comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He's been around enough women, confident in themselves and otherwise, to know that that is one of the absolute _worst_ things to say.

However, instead of snapping back, Evelyn's lips twist into a grim smile. "I lived for twenty two years after you died, Moony." She touches a pendant hanging in the hollow of her throat. "I lived my life and along the way I got married. Of course, everything went to Helheim and back in the end, so here we are doing it all over again."

Twenty two years.

His cub lived twenty two years without him.

_Both_ his cubs.

"Teddy?" he chokes out.

Evelyn gives him a sad, knowing look before snapping her fingers. The infirmary melts away and Remus abruptly finds himself sitting on a bed now situated in the middle of Platform 9¾ with the Hogwarts Express sitting in the station. People are milling about, but they seem to just pass right through him without sparing him a second glance.

_It's a memory_, Remus realizes in a daze. _Eve can display a memory without a Pensieve._

"Mum, enough!" a young male voice suddenly protests, cutting through the haze of noise that always surrounds the platform. "I'm telling you, I'm _fine_!"

"Oh, you're fine, are you?" Evelyn's voice Remus recognizes, and he turns towards it with a trembling heart. "A big, grown up boy like yourself is fine without his mum, is he?"

Evelyn appears relatively unchanged. With red hair twisted back in a sensible yet stylish braid, she has a hand on her hip as she looks at a young boy dressed in Hogwarts robes sporting Hufflepuff yellow. A young boy with Remus' face, surprisingly enough. Said boy's hair cycles from vibrant turquoise to flat grey before going back again.

"That's not what I meant," he mumbles, shuffling back and forth.

Memory Evelyn snorts softly. "You sure about that, sweetheart?"

The boy groans, burying his face in his hands while memory Evelyn watches on with a proud grin. "_Argh_, why do you have to be so _embarrassing_?!"

"It is a mother's job to embarrass her children, or so I'm told," she informs him loftily. "You should be thankful your father had to go into work today, otherwise he'd be right here helping me."

The face the boy pulls is almost comical as he shudders violently. "No _thank you_. He's almost worse than you."

Memory Evelyn shakes her head before leaning down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. "We'll see you in June. Do try to keep out of trouble until then."

"I make no promises," the boy throws back before the scene fades away, once again revealing the ridiculously over the top infirmary. Evelyn is staring intently at where the boy from the memory stood, eyes suspiciously bright.

"That's the last time I saw him," she whispers, voice brittle and Remus' heart bleeds with hers, "sending him back to Hogwarts after Easter break was finished his third year."

The man at her side shifts almost uneasily. "Alskling—"

Evelyn immediately holds a hand up, and he falls silent. "Love, if events hadn't happened the way they did, we never would've met. For all that I wish I could've been there with them for the remaining years, I made my choice when I chose not to go back. And in the end, we are here because I stayed." She looks at him with such tenderness that Remus almost feels like he's intruding. "So please, don't punish yourself over it."

The man sighs, reaching out to brush a hand over her cheek. "I knew that he would be mine once everything was done if we all survived," he says softly. "I had every intention of following through with that promise."

"I know, love, I know." Evelyn briefly presses his hand still on her cheek more firmly to her face before tangling their fingers together and dropping them down between then.

"Eve." Remus doesn't even bother trying to hide the trembling in his voice. "Eve, what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Twenty two years passed for me after you died," she says again, "and eight years ago, I was taken by Hela Lokidottir—" What? "—and dumped into the same prison cell her father, Loki Odinson—" _What?_ "—was in. A year later, the Convergence occurred. The Nine Realms were in alignment, and portals opened between them. A woman from Misgard, from Earth, found a hidden Infinity Stone in the midst of this, and woke it. Because she woke it, so too were the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim woken from their five thousand year slumber. A battle occurred as the Dark Elves sought to gain control of the Infinity Stone, and this battle tore the Realms out of balance. We lasted seven years before it all caught up with us. I was hit with a death spell that ate away at my body for a week before Loki finally had enough."

"You were dying in my arms," the man bites out, making Remus' head spin at the implications.

"And so he used Soul Magic," Evelyn continues as though she hadn't been interrupted. "He gave me everything that he had and sent my soul back to the beginning." Now she reaches up to take off the pendant she'd touched earlier. Remus does finally end up falling off the bed he's still in when she shrinks from a fully grown woman to a small child.

"_Bleeding hell_!" he swears, scrambling to his feet and lurching forward with an outstretched hand. Evelyn just watches him calmly, meeting his held out hand with one of her own. He hits his knees in front of her, pulling her into his embrace. He draws in deep breaths to reassure himself that she's still okay. That she's still _her_.

"It's 1991 again, Moony," she whispers into his shoulder.

"That's not possible," he returns for all that he holds her even closer. For all that his senses are telling him that she's _not lying_.

For some reason, she snorts out a watery chuckle when he says that. "Stars, you and Sirius both."

Remus' whole body jerks at the mention of his friend, his _brother_, lost to him because of his headstrong ego. Because Sirius just couldn't bloody well _stay put_. Because for all that Remus somewhat understood what Sirius was feeling, being cooped up and unable to do anything, Remus also had to pull Evelyn away as she screamed for another person now lost to her. He had to endure losing the last of his childhood friends (because Wormtail was lost to them years ago) and still stay strong because Evelyn was breaking apart in his arms.

"Eve—"

"It is _1991_, Remus," she stresses. "Sirius is still alive."

"Sirius is _dead_, Eve!"

She pulls away just far enough to look up at him in obvious exasperation. "Just like you are?" she counters. "Regardless, you'll be proven wrong in about ten seconds, given that Loki just gave Thor the go ahead to stop preventing Sirius from joining us."

"What?" He rears back like she'd slapped him, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. "No, Eve, I don't—" He doesn't think he'll survive a joke of this magnitude. Not with the knowledge that his _wife_ is gone still hanging over his head, something he's steadfastly ignoring until he can break down in peace.

"Why Moony, I'd almost think you didn't want to see me!"

A low whine builds in the back of Remus' throat.

It can't be him.

It just _can't_.

And yet, as he lifts his head towards the doorway again, it is.

Sirius Orion Black stands before him, a wide grin on his face that quickly disappears when Remus just stares at him.

"Moony?"

Evelyn huffs out a sigh. "Padfoot, please try to remember you've been dead two years for Remus and that seeing formerly dead people will definitely come as a shock to a normal person."

The impossible man, alarmingly enough, looks sheepish at the reprimand. Remus can't really remember a day where Sirius Black _ever_ looked sheepish before and meant it. Then, further exasperating Remus' disbelief, he proceeds to drop down beside Evelyn and offer a hand to Remus. He doesn't touch him, just offers a hand and wiggles his fingers almost invitingly.

"I even promise not to bite this time."

In any other situation, the face Evelyn pulls would've had Remus howling with laughter, her disgust is so comical.

Instead, he's falling into the arms of a man he'd thought he'd never see again sobbing even harder than that fateful Halloween night his world came crashing down around him. He clings to him, probably painfully tight, but Sirius doesn't mention it. His friend, after yelping at abruptly having an armful of sobbing werewolf, merely seems to settle himself more firmly where he's seated as if he's intent on just waiting Remus out.

"You stupid _arse_," Remus chokes out, not bothering to dwell on the fact that Sirius Black wasn't ever known for his patience and just rolling with it for now. "Why couldn't you bloody well stay _put_?!"

Sirius sighs out in an overly dramatic fashion that Remus can feel shudder through him, pressed as close as he is. "And _there's_ the telling off I knew was going to come out eventually. You don't waste any time, do you Moony?"

"Shut it, Black," Evelyn throws at her godfather almost half-heartedly. "Let him say his piece. He's going to be a blubbering mess anyways, so just let him get some of it out."

Remus can't get anything else out past the lump in his throat, so he just buries his face in Sirius' shoulder and holds on. His head's spinning from Sirius being alive to the supposed time travel to the apparent loss of his cub and wife. The fact that his friend manages to dredge some amount of tack and allows him this letting out of his grief and stress without any further interruptions turns out to be exactly what he needs. He does feel a tad pathetic, what with his utter falling apart like he is, but again, he can't really bring himself to care since at least _some_ of his family is here.

Because of them, it feels somewhat like home.

And he'll take any bit of home he can get.

* * *

Comments make me happy!


	15. Chapter 15

So, I wanted to get this done two days ago, as that was the anniversary of when I first posted this fic, but I ended up getting sucked into the cleaning spree my roommates were in.

So, two days late, but Happy 1 Year Anniversary!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 15: Of what once was**

"What do you know about Horcruxes?"

After Remus pulls himself back together, after he's informed about where _exactly_ they all are and has another freakout, after he and Dudley are more properly introduced, Evelyn gathers them all together so she can explain everything that happened. She curls up against Loki's side, remaining in her ten year old body so as to not waste the pendant's time with Dudley on her other side. Thor claims a chair all to himself, sprawling himself with a lazy ease normally only displayed by his brother, while Remus and Sirius sit together opposite her and Loki and Dudley. Thor, Loki, and Dudley already know what happened after Hogwarts, and Dudley's been learning about what occurred when she was with Loki and Thor, so all three are mostly here for moral support when the shouting starts.

At her mention of the sickly Dark magic, Sirius' spine goes ramrod straight.

"_Where did you hear about those_?" he demands, hands curling into fists as he starts to rise off the couch.

"Sirius!" Remus yelps, grabbing hold of his top and yanking his friend back down.

"I haven't made any myself, if that's what you're worried about," Evelyn states blandly while watching Remus fight to keep Sirius sitting without getting elbowed for his interference, "but that does answer my question of if either of you knew about them."

"Eve, why the bloody _fuck_ do you even know about them in the first place?" Sirius snarls, having given up on fighting werewolf strength.

Evelyn bares her teeth in a vicious sneer. "Because Tom Marvolo Riddle is a sick bastard, why else?"

Sirius rears back like she'd slapped him. "He made—?"

"He did. We think he was aiming for having six Horcruxes, which would've meant seven soul pieces, but he accidentally made a Horcrux for all that he was largely unaware of it."

Sirius sputters out indignantly, "How do you _accidentally_ make a bleeding Horcrux?" while Remus asks, "What even _is_ a Horcrux?"

Evelyn shifts slightly so she can press herself a bit more up against her husband. While the one once lodged in her forehead is gone and can no longer affect her, it still chills her to think about it. "A Horcrux is a soul anchor made by someone splitting their soul through cold blooded murder in an attempt to cheat death. It's how Riddle managed to survive after his Killing Curse rebounded off of me when I was a baby." Remus looks properly horrified at the mere idea. "As to how one can go about accidentally making one, consider this, godfather mine. Riddle had already split his soul six ways into five Horcruxes when it happened. Now, souls are rather sturdy things. However, Riddle had fractured his beyond belief in his quest to run from his fear of death. So when his Killing Curse abruptly rebounds and hits him instead of the baby he'd been aiming at, take an educated guess as to what his soul ended up doing in response."

.A look of understanding is slowly spreading across Sirius' face, and it looks like her godfather is going to be sick as the truth dawns on him.

"His soul split all on its own," Remus says softly

"Indeed." Evelyn tips her head to him while sporting a bitter smile. "And with no proper ritual prepared ahead of time to anchor the soul fragment to a specific object, that piece of Tom Riddle sought out the only other living thing in the room."

There's a moment of silence before Sirius explodes.

"Are you fucking telling me that you've had a bleeding Horcrux in your forehead this entire time?!" he all but screams, pointing a shaking finger at her. Remus doesn't even bother trying to stop him from standing again, probably too distracted by the revelation that his friend just announced.

"I _did_," she corrects him. "Hela sent a Valkyrie to retrieve shortly after we used Soul Magic to send me back."

Both he and Remus falter, blinking at her stupidly.

"Pardon?"

"Evelyn is my daughter Hela's Avatar," Loki calmly interjects, squeezing Evelyn's shoulders comfortingly. "Or as your Wizarding World has taken to calling it, the Mistress of Death. She obviously did not take kindly to her Avatar having the piece of a murderer's soul stuck in her forehead."

Sirius inhales sharply through his nose, showing that for all that he portrays himself as a bit of an idiot, he's actually a frighteningly intelligent person. "And before?" he spits out through clenched teeth. "How exactly did you deal with it before?"

"Riddle hit me with another Killing Curse," she says flatly. "Only instead of killing me, he killed the Horcrux in me. Not that I was aware that would happen. I'd gone to him thinking I would die."

Remus moans and buries his face in his hands. "How soon after—?"

"Shortly." Her laughter is brittle. "I was raised essencially as a _sacrifice_, because Albus _fucking_ Dumbledore thought he knew all. Because, as far as I'm aware, he never went to the goblins, when the first _fucking_ thing they did upon learning I had a Horcrux in my forehead was demand I see their Healers."

The werewolf scrubs wearily at his face before looking back up. "Cub, Dumbledore—"

She immediately cuts him off. "If you even _think_ of saying something about 'the greater good', Remus, I will _personally_ throw you off the Rainbow Bridge. Doing something for a 'greater good' doesn't fucking excuse leaving a child on a doorstep in the early hours of a fall morning with no protection beyond a blanket! It doesn't excuse leaving a child with people who _hate_ them just because they _fucking_ exist, who eventually resort to practically trying to beat the _freakishness_ out of said child to make it _normal_! It doesn't excuse _testing_ a child, to mold them into a warrior only to send them to _die_ in the end!" She's standing by the end of her tirade, screaming at her parents' two friends.

"Evie," Sirius chokes out. "No, you must've heard wrong. Dumbledore wouldn't—"

She bares her teeth at him in a wordless snarl, effectively shutting him up, before snapping her fingers and drawing up the relevant memory like she had back in the Healing Hall. The room they're sitting in fades away and reveals the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts. Dumbledore is rising from behind his desk while Severus is paused in his march towards the door.

"There will come a time when Evelyn Potter must be told something. But you must wait until Voldemort is at his most vulnerable," Dumbledore says calmly.

Severus turns back to face the Headmaster. "Must be told what?"

Dumbledore rounds his desk and walks towards Severus as he speaks. "On the night Lord Voldemort went to Godric Hollow to kill Evelyn, and Lily Potter cast herself between them, the curse rebounded. When that happened, a part of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living thing it could find. Evelyn herself. There's a reason Evelyn can speak with snakes. There's a reason she can look into Lord Voldemort's mind. A part of Voldemort lives inside her."

Severus stares at Dumbledore with a carefully crafted blank expression. "So, when the time comes, the girl must die?"

"Yes." Dumbledore nods. "Yes. She must die."

Evelyn figures that Remus and Sirius don't hear the tremble in Severus' voice as he accusingly says, "You've kept her alive so that she can die at the proper moment. You've been raising her like a pig for slaughter."

She cuts the memory off there, not willing to bare Severus' more personal thoughts to people who would only mock and ridicule him for them. Also, she has no desire to see Dumbledore patronizingly ask if Severus' cares for 'the girl' again. It made her skin crawl then, and it'll still do it now.

"Where did you get that?" Remus immediately asks, as she knew he would. And she doesn't blame him, given that she absolutely hated Severus' guts last he knew. It took her a while, and quite a bit of screaming and crying, but she'd made her peace with Severus and his actions. She would never forget them, would always use them as a basis on how _not_ to act, but she did understand. Caught between two masters with no viable way out save death, she's not particularly surprised he went bitter.

But he loved her mother.

Loved her enough to be willing to protect her daughter, for all that Evelyn knows she looked more like her father in her youth than her mother. Especially considering Aunt Petunia forced her to keep her hair short.

And love is a precious gift.

She jerks her chin up defiantly. "Severus gave me his memories as he was dying in the boathouse. Voldemort killed him because he thought that Severus was the Elder Wand's master. He wasn't, but neither of them knew that."

"Snape _killed_ Dumbledore!" Remus protests.

"On Dumbledore's orders!" she throws back before Sirius can launch into the rant she sees building in his eyes, because stars know that he loves having a go at Severus. "And only because the idiot went after a Horcrux by himself, and what do you know, Riddle was a paranoid enough bastard that he had booby traps in place where he left the pieces of his soul! He was going to die by the year's end anyways!"

"That doesn't excuse—"

"It was either Severus kill him, thus earning him Riddle's full trust, or have a _child_ do it as punishment for his failure of a father," she retorts. "While I most _certainly_ would've preferred not to have seen it happen myself, I am eternally grateful that Severus saved Draco from that particular trama. Working through all the other tramas he'd accumulated throughout his life was hard enough without that added on top of it all. Especially considering he'd sooner curse Lucius to Helheim and back before speaking to him. The knowledge that he'd killed for the man's mistakes would've been a shit storm to weather."

Remus stares at her flatly while Sirius still seems to be trying to wrap his head around the idea of Severus being on their side. "Draco? I was of the assumption that the two of you couldn't be in the same room without cursing each other."

Evelyn sighs and drops back down onto the edge of the couch she'd been sitting on. "Draco Regulus Black is one of two people who I would say saved my sanity after the war ended. I was floundering, as Dumbledore hadn't expected me to live and thus hadn't prepared me at _all_ for the role of Lady of what ended up being _two_ Noble and Most Ancient Houses. I was scared and overwhelmed and just about ready to flee Magical Britain and possibly Britain all together when Draco bullied his way into my life. Hermione, while I love her dearly, wasn't raised in the traditions I needed to learn, and while Neville was already in the process of teaching her himself, we do not learn the same way at all and I wasn't about to overwhelm him by asking him to teach me as well."

Remus exhales sharply. "Would he be the man you were referring to when discussing Teddy's father?"

"He was. He saved my life while I was on the run, and then his mother saved my life after Riddle hit me with the Killing Curse by proclaiming me dead." She fixes Remus with a stern look. "If I thought for one moment that he was a threat to my son, I'd've killed him where he stood."

Dudley snorts, drawing everyone's attention. "Instead, he dueled _multiple_ wizards and witches for that child," her cousin points out. "Given how cute that rascal was, I don't blame him. He told me, once, what it was those he ultimately killed wanted to do. I say he was completely justified."

"Yes, your protective male bonding was rather unnerving," Evelyn drawls, smirking when Dudley flushes upon realizing he's the center of attention, "and I dealt with a fair number of people myself for the same reasons. Especially once we started the Lunae Lumen Foundation." Her grin is vicious. "We had _so_ much fun after that."

Remus looks like he's about to start crying. "You started a foundation for werewolves?"

"Entirely funded by House Black to start with," Evelyn states, right proud of herself. "Draco and I both got many a laugh out of the thought that the House of 'Toujours Pur' was what founded it. We employed quite a few potions masters from across the globe to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for our clients. Anything that they wanted to dabble into in their free time we also funded, but our main focus was ensuring the safety of both our werewolf clients and their families."

"Out of curiosity, what happened to Luci?" Sirius asks, having settled himself somewhat from all that she's thrown at him so far.

"As I was Lady Black, I ended his marriage to Narcissa and brought both her and Draco back into House Black. He'd broken a few of the marriage clauses written into the contract, so I was able to do it in a way that landed all the other Houses on my side of the argument. That's when Draco requested the name change. Narcissa just wanted to escape, so I funded her global travels and we never really saw each other again. Of course, Lucius was rather furious, as I'd robbed him of his only Heir, but Draco dueled that man to a stand still and swore he'd kill him if he ever went after his mother."

Sirius lets out a low, impressed whistle. "Didn't think the kid had that in him. Guess he was more Black than I thought."

Evelyn shrugs gracefully. "He was my Heir. If he hadn't done it, I would've. Neither of us particularly cared for Lucius and we weren't about to let him hurt Narcissa. There was also the added bonus that it made most of Lucius' friends rather leery of crossing us."

"Gotta say, pup, that's some rather impressive pureblood wrangling you did," Sirius comments.

Evelyn laughs gayly. "Hermione and I had loads of fun flaunting our ability to run pureblood Lords in circles while Draco and Neville fondly watched. Drove the old men absolutely bonkers."

"Hermione married Neville, then?"

"Yeah." A fond smile spreads across her lips. "He was nuts over her since she petrified him first year, actually, but never worked up his Gryffindor courage until after the whole debadicale fifth year." Of course, then she has to go and remember the two darling children her best friends had had together. "Fucking hell."

"Alskling?" Loki curls himself around her immediately when her breath hitches.

"I want Mi and Nev to remember," she whispers, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes, "but hell, love, I cost them their _children_. Those kids won't ever be born again."

And stars had she loved them. Nicholos and Lucy had been spitfires, and she'd probably indugled them more than she should've before Hela snatched her away. Teddy had adored them as well, and Draco had taken to spoiling them rotten right along with her. That's not even going into the brood of children the Weasley siblings produced. She rather feels like sobbing now, having thought of all of them for the first time in _years_.

"I know, love, I know," Loki murmurs, "and I would give them all back to you if I could, but I cannot, so you must let it go. You'll only torture yourself otherwise."

"I would suggest, then, brother, that you take your own advice," Thor interjects for the first time. "Cherish all of their memories, but do not drown yourself in what you cannot change."

Evelyn feels Loki's sigh rattle through him, pressed as close as she is. "I do despise how bloody observant you've gotten, Thor."

"What, exactly, do you blame yourself for?" Evelyn wants to know. She pulls back to fix her husband with an exasperated look. "Is this still about Teddy? Because I never blamed you for my not being with him."

Loki gives her an exasperated look of his own. "Alskling, I had plans in place to recover the boy once all was said and done. I made no mention of them simply because you'd asked me to not bring him up again the day he graduated from Hogwarts. I knew ever since that day how much you missed your family back in Britain for all that you made it seem like you were fine with the separation."

Evelyn pulls a face. She'd honestly thought she'd hidden that better than she apparently did. "Did the others notice at all?"

"Natasha did, and perhaps Tony as well, but none of the others did as far as I'm aware."

"I will admit, I did not," Thor says calmly. "However, now that it's been brought to my attention, I recognize the few signs I noticed and simply dismissed in my ignorance."

"You stayed away to keep us safe, Eve," Dudley softly reminds her. "You had no way of knowing if you'd be followed back to even try and explain things." He sighs. "And they could've gone to you, anyways. We knew where you could be for all that you guys weren't often on Earth near the end. Avengers Tower was not subtle in the slightest. If they'd wanted, any one of your magical friends could've marched over to America and confronted you themselves, but they didn't and that's on them. I stayed away because I saw what the Avengers were dealing with and figured you had your reasons for both staying with them and not contacting us, and I was right."

Evelyn huffs out a watery chuckle. "You're far too forgiving, cousin."

"No, I just have a healthy respect for your temper and I'm not stupid enough to even try and tell you what you can and can't do."

"You mentioned Soul Magic back in the hospital wing," Remus murmurs.

"Horcruxes are a bastardized version of it," Evelyn explains. "It uses the strength of the castor's soul to power whatever spell is being used. Loki only used Soul Magic because there was nothing left for us. The only other Realm that hadn't fallen was Niflhelm, and that was simply because there wasn't anyone there to fight. Midgard was going to fall soon."

"People were scared," Dudley whispers, shivering. "It was bloody terrifying, just having to sit around and wait for something to happen."

"We tried our best," Evelyn says hoarsely. "Stars, Loki and I searched as much as we could, but the Realms kept collapsing and we weren't even sure there'd be an answer that could do anything after the first fell. Of course, we never let onto that particular fact, but it wouldn't surprise me if Tony knew for all that we didn't explicitly say it."

"He was a terrifyingly sharp man," Loki agrees. "I do hope the Soul Magic is kind enough to give him back to us."

"You've started the search for Steve, right?" she all but demands.

"Aye, we have Heimdall scouring the Arctic in what time he can spare. Thor and I will retrieve him once located." Loki runs a soothing hand up and down her back. "We will have our family again, one way or another."

"I'm worried that people _they_ might consider family I don't, so they won't remember," Evelyn practically whimpers. "I feel like they might hate me for that."

"Soul Magic is not something you can _command_," Loki sneers. "We were lucky enough to get this second chance as it is. I half expected us to die in that bunker, wife, so should anyone protest if memories are not able to be returned to any certain person, they will be _educated_ about their misguided thoughts."

She sighs, leaning into him. "Just don't kill them, please. Tempers are probably going to be running high for quite some time once everyone first remembers."

He huffs rather indignantly. "I will not kill them."

Sirius wrinkles his nose. "You were in America?"

Evelyn rolls her eyes in return, wiping away the few tears that managed to start rolling down her cheeks. "Yes, I went to America, Padfoot. That's where Thor and his teammates were based out of, as Dudley said. Although I do admit, their fish and chips were usually horrid, and their tea the stuff of nightmares. I just started drinking coffee to survive."

"And the MACUSA didn't try and rein hell down on your head for blatantly using magic in front of Muggles?" Remus wants to know.

"I got lucky on that front. Everyone just thought I was either like Loki or Wanda who were both stylized as magic users as well. I did, however, manage to rally the magical community in Sokovia when their capital was destroyed by an insane robot."

The werewolf makes an exasperated sound that Evelyn feels down to the depths of her bones. "Insane _robot_? Really Eve?"

"He truly was a marvel to behold," Thor comments almost blandly. "But indeed, quite insane. Stark had built him in an attempt to help aid us, as we were stretched thin already, but Ultron deemed humanity as the greatest threat to peace on Midgard. He sought to destroy all mankind in his crusade to protect the planet, but we stopped him when he attempted to turn the capital of Sokovia into a meteor."

"It was scary as shit," Dudley pipes up. "It was all over the telly for _weeks_. That's what first clued me into where you were, Eve, and part of the reason I stayed away. I figured you didn't need anymore attention drawn to you."

Remus stares at them before roughly running a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."

Evelyn barks out shaky laughter. "Yeah, I thought similar even when I was in the midst of it all. And that, unfortunately, only touches the tip of what we went through."

Both men exhale explosively, glance briefly at one another, and then focus back on her.

"Tell us."

A grim but pleased smile spreads across Evelyn's lips. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

Loki calmly walks down the Rainbow Bridge to the Observatory to do his daily check in with Heimdall. It's been eighteen days since Remus Lupin was brought to Asgard from Midgard, and the hunt for Steve Rogers has been frustratingly unsuccessful. Still, that doesn't deter him from checking every day, and while he knows Heimdall would contact him if he found Steve, it gets him out of the palace on a daily basis. He generally does it when Evelyn is occupied by Frigga for magic lessons, if only to spare her the disappointing walk back. She gets disappointed enough when he returns solemn and without news.

If they don't find Steve soon, they're going to have to return to Midgard, specifically England, without him, as they have to be there for Evelyn to receive her Hogwarts letter. After that, they have plans to go to America to seek out Tony. He'll be easier to find than Clint or Natasha at any rate.

Heimdall, as ever, stands at the edge of the Observatory, gazing out into the cosmos that stretch beyond Asgard. He says nothing as Loki approaches, yet Loki knows the Gatekeeper is aware of him. Especially considering Loki isn't even bothering to try and hide his presence.

"Prince Loki." Heimdall inclines his head as Loki comes to a stop right beside him.

"Heimdall," Loki returns solemnly. "Is there any progress?"

Instead of his usual dismissal, signifying that Steve has not yet been found, Heimdall instead turns to face him. "The warrior has been found. However, he is solidly encased in ice deep in the sea."

Loki exhales sharply, relief flooding him at the news. "Yes, we were prepared for that. My thanks, Heimdall. I will be returning shortly with my brother. You will be able to send us down as closely as you can to the exact location?"

"Indeed." There's a knowing look in Heimdall's eyes, like he knows the truth of Loki's heritage and thus what he plans to do to retrieve Steve Rogers, but he says nothing further.

For that, Loki is grateful. He is nowhere near ready to reveal that particular piece of information to anyone not already aware. Evelyn is bound and determined to learn all she can of his heritage, though, and has been raiding the palace library with Remus almost daily. They've delved into some of the dustiest parts of it and have surprisingly been somewhat successful.

"Until you return, my prince."

Loki gives him a jerky nod before turning on his heel and marching away.

* * *

"Again, you have to touch him if you want the Soul Magic to work, alskling."

_Whack._

"I know that, you prat, now shut up!"

* * *

Comments make me happy!


	16. Chapter 16

The next chapter!

I feel I need to remind people that I have absolutely no intention to abandon this fic. There might be long intermissions between chapters, but I know where I'm going and it's all going to end. It's just that my muse sometimes takes a vacation without informing me beforehand.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 16: One Capsicle to go**

The pounding centered right between his eyes that greets Steve when he wakes up is irritating to the extreme. He almost wants to lift a hand to try and apply some pressure of his own to the area, but his limbs feel weighed down. Also, he's pretty sure he'll just smack himself in the face if he tries, and that's the last thing he wants right now.

So instead, he forces his eyes open to figure out where the hell he is.

A golden ceiling greets him.

He stares up at it uncomprehendingly before past events come crashing over him.

He'd _died_.

Jerking upright drags a harsh gasp from him, but his hands are already pressed against where he can still feel the blade that finally got him sink in. That's what he gets for letting himself get separated from everyone. He can almost still hear Tony screaming at him to get away, but there hadn't been any way for him to. Not with a bum leg that had already brought him to his knees. In conclusion, there's no way he should've been able to survive what followed.

And yet here he is, alive.

Flailing movement off to his right makes Steve whip his head in that direction, and it's just in time for him to see Evelyn go tumbling off the chair she'd been sitting in moments before. She hits the ground in an undignified heap, blinking up at him as he stares down at her.

"Eve?" Steve prods when she shows no signs of moving.

Red blooms across her cheeks and she scrambles back to her feet. "Can't believe I just _did_ that," she mumbles, plopping back into the chair she'd recently vacated. After dragging a hand down her face, she exhales explosively before finally looking at him again. "Hi Steve, how are you feeling?"

"I died," he returns bluntly.

She dips her chin down. "You did."

He blinks at her, needing a better answer than that. "Then why am I _here_?"

"Because we only lasted two years after we lost you," she says softly, haunted memories clouding her eyes as she tips her head back. "It was just Loki and I in the end, and I'd been hit by a death spell. He managed to keep me alive for a week, but I was rapidly slipping away. We both knew I wasn't going to last the night. So my husband gambled everything and sent my soul back through time with Soul Magic." An amused yet bitter smile twists her lips. "I woke up back under the cupboard I hadn't seen since my youth. Apparently my soul returning resulted in my magic blowing the stairs above me to smithereens."

The explanation, while it makes a certain amount of sense, also makes him suspicious for reasons he can't name until he can finally dredge up the few conversations he's thinking of. "Eve, you were forced to live in that cupboard until you were _ten_." And she looks the same as always, only far more relaxed than he's ever seen before.

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, and apparently a few interesting friends looking out for me." For some reason, she reaches up to tap a pendant hanging in the hollow of her throat. "If I took this off, you'd see that I _am_ actually physically ten years old at the moment. The pendant is specifically tuned to me and grants me my adult body for certain amounts of time depending on what Realm I'm in. It's a tricky bit of Runes and Charms and Transfiguration that frankly has me rather astounded at the complexity of it all."

Well then.

Steve's never tried to truly understand the magic that she and Loki weave, only concerned with what it was they could do so he could add it into his battle plans. If she says that's the way the pendant works, then that's the way it works.

Of course, that _still_ doesn't answer his question of how exactly he's alive now and remembering things.

"_Eve_—"

She interrupts him with an exasperated expression. "The Soul Magic was supposed to only give me my memories, with the possible exception of Loki as he's the one who cast the magic in the first place. Instead, we both quickly realized that both Thor and my cousin Dudley remembered as well."

The mention of their fallen comrade is like a punch to the gut. A wounded noise rumbles in the back of Steve's throat as he bows his head. He absolutely loathes that he keeps losing people. First it was Bucky on that damn train. It was swiftly followed by Peggy, Howard, and the Howling Commandos when he'd sunk the _Valkyrie_ in the Atlantic. That might've been his choice and his fault for those particular losses, but they still hurt all the same when he'd woken up again. Then, despite his aching heart, the team had come together and he'd had himself a new family. He'd known the dangers already. War is kind to no one and there was no guarantee that they'd all make it out to the other side. That doesn't mean he wasn't any less broken when Thor fell. They'd all been stunned. While the two Asgardians on their team weren't any less mortal than the others, they'd still seemed almost larger than life. None of them had ever really contemplated the idea that that meant that they could die just as easily as the rest of them. To have _Thor_ be the first of them to fall shook every single one of them. Badly, deeply, and Steve wondered in some of his darker moments if Thor's death dealt them too sharp a blow that they'd never recover from.

Eve reaches out and lays a hand over one of his clenched fists. "We weren't entirely sure if they remembered simply because of close proximity to us when our souls returned," she continues softly. "When Loki proceeded to break my godfather out of prison and my skin touching his returned his memories to him, we knew something significant was going on. We tried again with my father's other friend, and the same thing happened. The instant I touched him, I felt the Soul Magic in me flare and his memories were returned." She squeezes his hand gently. "So we started looking for you. We obviously had a general idea of where to look, but Heimdall has other duties on top of what we were asking him to do. We would've had to return to England within the next week or so even if we hadn't found you because I need to be there to receive my Hogwarts letter."

"Because you're ten again," he says slowly as a reminder to himself, because he can't quite wrap his head around that particular fact with her looking like she usually does. Her hand retreats from his, and he lifts his head just in time to see her wry smile before she unclasps the pendant. He sucks in a sharp breath when she goes from a full grown woman to a child.

"Because I'm ten again," she quietly repeats, tucking the necklace away into a pocket. She pulls a rather comical face. "I have to admit, I'm _not_ looking forward to having to go to school again. The first time was unpleasant enough, now I'm going to be thoroughly bored out of my mind because I already know everything."

Steve snorts out an unexpected chuckle, because they all learned early on that a bored Evelyn was a dangerous Evelyn. "I take it you can't just skip going?"

She sighs heavily. "Unfortunately, no. Too many people expect me to go, and it's better in the long run to have England on my side rather than against me. To say nothing of the fact that Riddle will pursue me wherever I go, so I'd rather just deal with him in England to begin with instead of inflicting his terror onto any other country."

Steve rolls the unexpected name around in his head. "And Riddle's the man who killed your parents and wanted you dead?"

"He is indeed." Her smile turns bitter. "One of the downsides of how far back we came is that that bloody bastard is still alive. Still, at least this go round I actually know how to kill him, so I don't have to constantly play nice with Dumbledore if I don't want to." She abruptly claps her hands together. "But enough of that. We'll have plenty of time to discuss everything once we're all together again. Right now, we have friends waiting for us to join them." She slides out of her seat. "Give me a minute and I'll get Healer Eir to release you." She trots off without waiting for an answer and Steve just watches her go.

He realizes that she's never actually said just where exactly they are. However, from the stories both Thor and Loki told, along with the obscene amounts of gold he can see all around him, he figures they're probably on Asgard. Exhaling loudly, he leans back and rests his head on the wall behind his bed.

So, they've gotten a second chance.

A second chance to do things _better_ this time.

It's something everyone wishes for but never really is granted.

Steve wearily scrubs a hand over his face, already overwhelmed with ideas of what they could all do differently now. Each one has consequences, and he doesn't even know who all will remember, or who Eve _wants_ to have remember. Not to mention, the mere fact that they do remember is already screwing up everything they know happened before. Heck, he's been found _way_ before he was last time, and that's going to affect _so_ many things.

"I'd tell you off, cause I can almost see what it is that you're thinking about, but I've done similar this last month." Eve's dry tone cuts through his jumbled thoughts. He blinks his eyes open, wondering when exactly he closed them, to find her standing at the foot of his bed. She's holding a stack of clothes in her arms that she lays on the bed. "Changing area is right over there," she continues, pointing a finger to his left. "We didn't manage to save your clothes, but we've got a working harness to hold your shield." She reaches down to rap her knuckles against something leaning against his bed. Steve's more relieved than he cares to admit at the familiar ringing tone produced. "Go get dressed and I'll take you to see everyone." She gives his foot a quick pat before walking briskly away.

He gives himself a moment before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The coolness of the floor seeps through the socks on his feet, but Steve doesn't really mind. It's just another reminder that he's actually _alive_. He'll take as many of those as he can get.

The clothes that Eve left are soft yet sturdy to the touch. He drapes them over an arm before shuffling over in the direction she'd pointed. It's always a relief to take off any sort of hospital clothes. No one on the team ever enjoyed time spent healing from injuries. All of them were obnoxious for various reasons whenever they landed themself there. Because of the super serum, he rarely managed that, so he was always incredibly impatient to get out.

It's when he's pulling the new top over his head after shimmying into the new pants that he belatedly remembers another thing of importance concerning Evelyn's age. She's _ten_. That means it's either late 1990 or early 1991. He goes stumbling back out into the hospital proper to find Evelyn sitting on his bed, his shield beside her.

"Eve, the date," he gasps, breath catching in the back of his throat.

She blinks at his sudden appearance before understanding washes over her face. "It's the 15th of July, and the year is 1991."

He sits down hard on the bed opposite her, dropping his head into his hands.

Bucky hasn't been sent to kill the elder Starks yet. If they time it right, they might be able to keep him from doing it all together. And then hopefully Eve will still make good to her promise to help Bucky recover from all the hell HYDRA put him through. Steve had started giving up all hope of finding him the further the Realms had collapsed, and then he'd gone and died, bringing the search to a rather abrupt halt. It's another second chance he hadn't thought he'd ever have, and this will definitely be one he grabs with both hands.

Inhaling deeply, he raises his head.

Evelyn is kindly not looking at him. She does twist when he moves, offering a small smile. "Good now, Captain?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good."

"Excellent." She slides off the bed and hefts his shield with a grunt that has him scrambling to his feet as well. "I'm so out of shape it's bloody ridiculous," she grumbles, letting him take the shield from her without protest.

Steve shoots her a fond yet exasperated look while also accepting the harness she passes him. "Eve—"

She waves him off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm ten, I _know_. Doesn't mean I have to like it, Cap." A shiver shakes her whole body. "You ought to know just how much I despise not being able to stand on my own two feet."

With the harness on and his shield once more a comforting weight secured to his back, Steve drops a pat onto the top of her head for all that she shoots him a truly unimpressed look. "And you know that's _why_ we're a team. We help each other when they can't stand on their own for whatever reason." He gives her a rueful smile. "You certainly drilled that into my head about Bucky."

"You were being a bit of an idiot, but not enough of an idiot that it couldn't be rectified." She huffs out a sigh. "We all tend to be idiots when it comes to our friends. We just have so much more at our disposal that when we're being idiots, the consequences are much more severe than the average person." Steve both marvels and despairs at how _tiny_ her hand is as she slips it into his own. "Come on. Knowing my brother like I do, he's most likely bouncing around the training grounds and driving my husband absolutely bonkers. Let's go put both of them out of their misery."

Steve barks out a hoarse sounding laugh, but does let her pull him out of the hospital. The halls they enter are just as obnoxiously decorated as the hospital was. He gets some curious looks whenever they pass someone, but Evelyn is given respectful inclines of heads. Steve doesn't have to see her face to know that she'd rather they didn't do that. Still, she marches unerringly onwards.

Sunshine washes over them, and Steve lets out an unintended sigh of relief. Apparently his dislike for Asgardian buildings is stronger than he'd originally thought. That or he's just thankful to be outside on a sunny day with no visible batte in sight. _Everywhere_ had been a battlefield by the end. Evelyn tosses a questioning expression over her shoulder back at him, but continues onward when he shakes his head.

When they start approaching what Steve recognizes as organized training grounds, Evelyn finally lets go of his hand only to go sprinting towards two specific figures. Steve's taken aback at the childish shriek of delight that Evelyn lets loose when she's swept up into Thor's arms. His teammate's booming laughter echoes through the air as he spins the two of them around in a circle, his expression one of pure delight. Then he's setting her back down on her feet and turning to Steve.

"Captain!"

Finally having the entirety of Thor's attention focused on him, Steve couldn't have stopped the sob that rises out of his throat even if he bothered trying. He stumbles forward with Thor meeting him halfway. He fists his hands in Thor's clothing, clinging as though the man will vanish if he lets go. Thor doesn't protest, he simply stands there and lets Steve take as much comfort from his presence as he needs. And that's really _really_ helpful, because Steve feels way too close to fracturing. Right now, he just needs to focus on the fact that Thor is alive again. Anything else can follow later when he doesn't feel quite so raw.

"Evelyn just sent for my brother, so I assume he will arrive shortly," Thor murmurs for all that he makes no move to release Steve.

Steve inhales sharply and makes himself let go. He can't cling to Thor for forever, and while he knows Loki won't ever use a truly emotionally raw moment against any of them, he'd still rather not give the man any ammunition for later. And because Thor's mentioned this, he also realizes that the person Evelyn's standing beside _isn't_ her husband. His cheeks flush with heat when he sees it's very much a _woman_ that Evelyn's chatting with.

"Ah, let me introduce you." Thor wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Sif! This is our comrade Captain Steven Grant Rogers. He has fought in many a battle, and I am proud to call him shield brother. Steve, this is Lady Sif, a fellow warrior whom I've grown with."

Steve can immediately tell by the set of her shoulders that Sif is ready to defend herself if he's stupid enough to make a derogatory comment about her being a woman. Given that she most likely has no idea just how much he's worked with competent women, he doesn't begrudge her her wariness. Instead, he offers his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Thor talked about you quite a bit in his stories."

Sif blinks at him, then turns to look at Thor. "Loki had mentioned something similar." Steve's a little bit impressed when Thor's cheeks flush pink for all that he's staring determinedly at his boots. An amused smile tugs at the woman's lips as she accepts Steve's hand. "I look forward to training with you, Captain."

There's a whirlwind of magic that lands nearby, and Evelyn's off again. This time it is Loki she runs too, although there are three other people who arrived with her husband that Steve doesn't recognize. Two grown men and a boy who appears to be about Evelyn's physical age. All three look rather dazed.

"Steve's awake!" Evelyn exclaims happily.

"I can see that, alskling," Loki returns with a fond smile. He drops a kiss on top of her head before turning his attention to Steve. "It is good to see you again, Captain."

Steve snorts out a hoarse chuckle. "I think I should be thanking you for even being able to. Something about Soul Magic?"

Loki's smile turns pinched for all that he comes over to clasp hands. "Very rarely does one ever get thanks for performing Soul Magic, but in this instance, I will take it. The alternative does not bear thinking over." The sound of Evelyn's laughter has the both of them looking back to where the two older men appear exasperated with something, but content all the same to watch Evelyn laugh without interfering. The young boy is shaking his head with a hand over his face. "They are her father's childhood friends whom she lost during their blood war," Loki says softly.

"She mentioned them when she was explaining the Soul Magic to me," he returns just as quietly, loath to interrupt a rare moment of unburdened joy from the woman who'd pulled them all together tighter than they'd ever imagined possible. He knows from first hand experience how heavy the weight of the world's troubles feel when carrying them alone. She'd torn into both Tony and him about how she'd done it and had nearly failed. About how the man who should've been her mentor had done it, and how it had cost him everything, including Evelyn's trust in the end.

And Evelyn's trust is a heady, powerful thing to have.

"She is quite happy to have a second chance with both men for all that she had to grow up without them." Loki huffs out a sigh that Steve only hears because of how close he's standing to the man. "And they deserve to be able to watch her grow unhindered."

Steve raises an eyebrow at that last bit, but doesn't comment. Loki had hoarded Evelyn's time a decent amount before she'd taken him to task over it. He'd relented, because it was Evelyn asking, but that doesn't mean he hadn't watched all of them like a predator stalking its prey for months afterwards. Him being willing to admit to others needing Evelyn's time beyond just him is something that they'd all figured wouldn't ever happen. He allowed it, because no one denied Evelyn time with those she considered family without feeling like the lowest of scum, but he never came out and _said_ it.

Then again, having the entirety of your world come crashing down around you would motivate a person to do better, Steve muses to himself. In any event, he'll take it for the blessing that it is, and not mention it to give Loki some peace. The last thing he wants right now is the self proclaimed God of _Mischief_ coming after him in retaliation for a perceived slight.

"Steve!"

He snaps out of his drifting thoughts as Evelyn comes barreling back towards him. She's dragging both grown men with her, not that they're protesting the man-handling at all.

"Steve, I'd like you to meet Heir Sirius Orion of House Black, my godfather, and my soon-to-be Head Retainer and Steward Remus John Lupin." Her joyful smile turns wicked, and Steve immediately knows that she hasn't told them the entire truth as to who he is. "Padfoot, Moony, this is Captain Steven Grant Rogers. He's one of the many people I fought with during the war that consumed the Realms."

The black haired man, Sirius, doesn't do much of anything other than give him a once over at the mention of his name. Remus, however, does a full on double take, green eyes going wide and jaw dropping as his gaze darts from him to Eve and back again in stunned disbelief.

Steve lets a rueful smile spread across his lips. "Yeah, I'm _that_ Captain Rogers." He offers his hand again, which Remus seems to take purely on instinct. "I have to say, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lupin. Eve told me quite a lot about you, including how you were the first competent Defense teacher she had. I look forward to getting to know you better. Both of you." He tacks on that last bit, inclining his head to include her godfather.

When Remus doesn't say anything, just continuing to stare, Sirius turns to give his friend an exasperation look. "Moony, why in Merlin's name are you looking at the man like he's the next best thing since Honeydukes' dark chocolate?"

"You don't—?!" Remus starts to sputter, face flushing bright red. "_How_ do you not know—"

"Pureblood, Moony," Eve cuts in softly. "Not to mention Azkaban."

And just like that, the man deflates.

"I'm missing something, aren't I?" Sirius demands.

"You're missing quite a few things, Padfoot, but in this particular instance your Pureblood upbringing is working against you," Evelyn explains. "Captain Rogers here is something of a Muggle war hero from World War Two, which was when we were dealing with Grindelwald."

The affronted expression on the man's face morphs into confusion as he gives Steve another look. "He's a Muggle, yeah? Then how much he isn't as old looking as Minnie or Albus?"

Evelyn rolls her eyes. "He sunk his plane into the Atlantic Ocean, and was pretty much frozen in time until we fished him back out."

Sirius blinks then shoots his goddaughter a deadpan look. "Evie, even _wizards_ would die in those conditions if caught unawares. There is no way at all that a Muggle would survive."

"I'm a bit of a special case," Steve interjects.

Sirius sniffs in a rather indignant manner. "'A _special case_' he says. We gonna be meeting any more _special cases_?"

"Possibly," Evelyn says, turning her nose up in haughty dismissal while Steve's heart lurches in his chest. "Depends on my luck."

The comical look of horror that spreads across both mens' faces has Steve laughing because he completely understands depending on Evelyn's luck. If it goes your way, the results tend to be beyond anything they could've thought of. When it goes against you, all you can really do is hold tight and pray.

"Thankfully, we should have more than just Potter Luck to get us by," Loki calmly states over Steve's laughter.

Remus shudders before muttering, "Thank Merlin for that."


	17. Chapter 17

Sometimes, your muse comes to you in fits and spurts over a month long period. Other times it lets you spout out 5000+ words in just 2 days.

I warn you, do _NOT_ expect this all the time.

I'm just as surprised as you all definitely were when you saw the email saying 'New Chapter'.

Regardless, enjoy this surprising update 2 days after the previous one!

* * *

**Chapter 17: To Britain we shall go**

"Sirius, we've been _over_ this five times already," Evelyn bites out, rapidly reaching her threshold for 'shits to give' with how much her godfather is going on about wanting to return to Earth with her. "You're still a bloody wanted criminal, and I'm taking absolutely _no_ chances when it comes to your safety." She waves around the piece of parchment with his statement and signature on it. "This is more than enough help with what I'm capable of doing and am _going_ to do right now. Even my husband is staying here for the time being, and let me tell you, he is even _more_ displeased than you are." She doesn't let herself glance over to where Loki, Thor, and Steve are silently watching her and her godfather go at it _again_.

Sirius pulls a face, but all Evelyn does is scowl back. "Thought we were calling him your betrothed."

She bares her teeth at him in a wordless snarl. "Given that I'm a mite ticked off with you at the moment, I don't particularly give a flipping shit about your delicate sensibilities!"

Beside her, Remus sighs in exasperation. "Padfoot, just let it go. This isn't like last time in the slightest. We actually have a decent _plan_. You aren't going to be stuck here indefinitely. There's only two weeks left before Eve turns eleven and can claim her Ladyship titles. After that, she'll have numerous ways to demand that you get a proper trial, but she's right about one thing. You have to bloody well stay _put_ because you're too hot headed for your own good right now! Fudge will be more than willing to have you Kissed on sight, in case you forgot."

Sirius seems to fold in on himself as his expression crumbles. "I'm your godfather, _I'm_ supposed to be the one protecting you, not the other way around."

Evelyn consciously swallows the words that immediately bubble up because of her frustration. She will _not_ use Pettigrew against her godfather. He's suffered enough on that account already. "You are protecting me, though." Again, she holds up his statement for the bank. "With this, we can get a two week head start on everything. There's not much more we can do until I turn eleven, so you'd be sitting around doing nothing anyways." She passes the statement over to Remus before throwing her arms around Sirius. "It's just for a few days. We'll be back before you know it."

Sirius ends up lifting her up off her feet as he returns her hug. "I always count the days when you're away, Prongslet. I did it then and I'll still be doing it now no matter what you tell me."

Evelyn chuckles weakly. "I'm well acquainted with a parent's prerogative, Padfoot. Drove Teddy absolutely bonkers most of the time."

"Yeah, well I'm still learning, so go easy on me?"

She squirms in his arms until she can plant a kiss on his cheek. "Just don't fuss too much and I'll do my best. Now put me down please." He does as asked, and she gives him a small smile before going over to her husband.

He meets her hug halfway. "I don't like this in the slightest," he mutters into her hair.

"I know, lovely, I know," she whispers back, "but this needs to be done. Britain and America."

He huffs out an aggravated sigh, but doesn't contradict her. They've all realized that they need to know who else will remember, and Tony is one of their top priorities. Evelyn would like all of their cobbled together family to remember, but she isn't going to pin her hopes solely on that happening. That's not even beginning to delve into any of her classmates.

But those worries are for another day.

Right now it's time for her, Remus, and Steve to leave.

So she lets go and returns to Remus' side, Steve following right behind her. Reaching into a pocket, she takes out her pendant and fastens it around her neck. She hasn't used it since they found Steve, so it's as charged as it's going to get before she uses up all her available time. And while she might be able to walk the hidden pathways connecting the Realms in her true form as a child, she still feels more comfortable attempting it this time as an adult.

"Steve, usual rules apply." She holds out a hand that he immediately takes. She trusts him to make sure to keep a hold of Remus' hand as well, having done this before even if it's usually Loki in the lead. "Moony, focus only on the pathway." Then, calling up her magic as Loki had taught her, she steps between the Realms. The darkness envelops them save for the illuminated pathway that Evelyn must continue to concentrate on or have it disappear, leaving them trapped in the darkness. Steve's hand tightens around hers, and that's the only show of discomfort she knows the man will allow himself. Remus whimpers briefly at the abrupt silence, but otherwise makes no other noise.

When England's meager sunlight shines on them again, Evelyn knows that she's not the only one relieved. She does, however, take a step back and link her arm through Steve's. This way, as they ramble around Stonehenge to look for a place that Remus can use to Apparate them to Diagon Alley, they simply look like a couple out enjoying the countryside with a friend. Much less likely to arouse suspicion than two grown men with a child that shares none of their features.

"I'd forgotten that isn't much cover here," Remus mutters in exasperation when they realize that there isn't really anything nearby that they can use.

Evelyn's a bit peeved with herself as well, but then again, the Dursleys were never much for taking her on their field trips if they could help it, and she'd been more concerned about finding Hela last time as opposed to taking in the sights. She mentally runs through what she can do. "Give me a moment." It takes a bit of concentration, as she no longer has the luxury of not having to worry if anyone sees her, but a subtle Notice-Me-Not charm slides over them. She keeps them walking until the charm has fully settled, then she says, "Moony, now."

Remus doesn't bother asking if she's certain. He just grabs hold of both of them and pulls them along. Steve inhales sharply as they land at the designated Apparition point for Diagon Alley, but Evelyn's a little too busy trying not to hurl to check on him. She'd forgotten how jarring Apparition is because Loki had taught her a spell that was essentially the same but didn't make you feel like you were getting squeezed through a too tight tube. She just hasn't mastered taking others along with yet, hence Remus Apparating them. She does end up near tearing off her pendant, the charmed chain being the only thing preventing her from actually doing so, and her stomach settles somewhat as she shrinks back down to child-size.

"Fucking hell, that was _exceedingly_ uncomfortable," Steve spits out through clenched teeth.

Evelyn snorts out a giggle. "I feel obligated to fill in for everyone not here—"

"Please don't."

"—and say 'Language'!"

Steve lets out a frustrated groan. "One time! One time, and none of you idiots ever let it go."

Evelyn laughs for real this time. "That's because you make it too amusing to give up, Captain." He shoots her a fond, yet not amused expression. She just grins cheekily back. She knows him too well and is fully aware that he finds it just as amusing as the rest of them for all that he refuses to show it.

"You'll have to tell me that particular story sometime," Remus says, having straightened himself out, "but for now, we have business further in."

Evelyn gives a brisk nod. "Right, to Eeylops Owl Emporium first." She swallows around the rising lump in her throat. Even after nearly twenty three years, she's still not sure she's ready to see the owl that became Hedwig to her. Draco might've eventually persuaded her to get a new owl, but it hadn't been another snowy owl. The mere idea of doing that had been far too painful at the time.

"Cub, you don't have to come with for this particular task," Remus gently reminds her. They need an owl so they can send a letter to the bank forewarning them of their arrival, but as Remus is pointing out, she doesn't have to go with him. He has the money left over from Evelyn's last visit, and it should be enough to cover this first purchase.

She shakes her head. "No, I do. I want to see her, even if I can't get her."

Remus gives her a measured look, one she doesn't back down from. "Alright, but I'm going to have Steve take you away if it looks like you aren't handling it well. I can handle buying an owl by myself, you know."

"I know." She haughtily sticks her nose up in the air. "However, seeing as said owl will be used in service of _my_ House, it is well within my rights to oversee the transaction."

Steve huffs in quiet amusement, making both Evelyn and Remus turn to look at him. "It's always entertaining whenever she brings out that specific tone," he explains, focusing mostly on Remus. "She and Tony had endless amounts of fun going at each other. They were constantly trying to one up the other."

"Sounds a bit like James and Sirius," Remus returns with a fond smile even as he starts herding them towards the Alley. "Lily eventually stopped trying to intervene once she learned it was more fun to just sit back and watch them have at it. Certainly kept them entertained when she'd sooner curse them both for constantly distracting her."

"Can we trade stories for stories?" Evelyn inquires, even though she knows both Sirius and Remus would tell her endless amounts of stories that include her parents.

"Whatever you want, cub."

And then they're hit with the wall of humanity that is Diagon Alley.

Evelyn still remembers the first she'd entered, and how largely overwhelmed she'd been for all that this new, hidden world excited her. Glancing back at Steve, she's reassured to see that while his eyes are darting around, he's taking it all in stride. It probably doesn't hurt that he has experience in walking into a brand new world.

Eeylops Owl Emporium is situated roughly halfway between the Leaky Cauldron and Gringotts. Remus immediately goes up to the counter and starts talking with the older looking wizard standing behind it. Evelyn, on the other hand, goes meandering with Steve following behind her. She lets her gaze wander, trying not to appear as though she's looking for anything in particular. She's not sure how well she succeeds at that.

An achingly familiar bark is the only warning Evelyn gets before she suddenly has an owl on her shoulder. Turning her head just slightly, she freezes at the sight of white feathers and intelligent amber eyes. She can feel her lips trembling from how tightly she's pressing them together. Her magic stirs under her skin, although not in a way she's familiar with.

"Eve?" Steve takes a step towards her.

Inhaling shakily, she waves him off. "Hey girl," she whispers hoarsely, reaching up to stroke a finger down the owl's breast feathers. She gets a chirp of approval at this as the owl who most definitely is the one Hagrid chose for her settles more firmly onto her shoulder. Even with tears welling up in her eyes, Evelyn doesn't even bother trying to stop the smile that's tugging at her lips. "You wanna come home with me, then?" That earns her another chirp, reminding her just how amazingly smart Hedwig had been. "Well then, let's go get that settled, shall we?" She sticks her tongue out at Steve when he chuckles ruefully. He just shakes his head and gestures for her to lead the way.

Remus and the wizard behind the counter are still going back and forth when she walks over. The other wizard shuts up almost instantly, eyes going wide. Remus blinks at the abrupt stop, turning to see what it was that was distracting his conversation partner.

"That owl has refused to go with _anyone_ in the two years that I've had her," the wizard dumbfoundedly states. "She hasn't bitten you, has she?"

Evelyn immediately starts soothing Hedwig when she barks in obvious disapproval. She shoots her own look of displeasure at him that has Remus covering up an amused snort with a hasty cough.

"She just flew right over," Steve interjects, "and she's been as gentle as a lamb besides."

The wizard lets out a rather exaggerated sigh of relief. "Merlin be praised, I'd started to worry that I'd never be able to sell her. I tell you what, I'll give her to you at a reduced price." At Evelyn's continued suspicious look, he gives her a sheepish smile. "I do care for my birds, miss, and I have honestly been worried about this particular one. They usually sell much quicker than two years, you see, even the opinionated ones. Seeing how well you two like each other already, I'd feel like a right prick, if you'll pardon the language, keeping the two of you apart in any way."

"Well Prongslet?" There's a knowing look in Remus' eyes, but he still asks the question all the same.

"Of course I'm getting her, are you daft?"

He inclines his head. "No, but it's polite to check all the same." Then he turns back to the wizard behind the counter. "How much for the owl?"

Evelyn leaves him to it, making her way back to the front of the store with her heart aglow at having Hedwig again. Her snowy owl has always had a special place in her heart, first and foremost because she was the first present Evelyn could ever remember receiving. And then, as the years went by, she was the one constant companion Evelyn could count on during the summers between years at Hogwarts.

"She's beautiful," Steve comments, waiting with her just off to the side by the door.

She beams proudly up at him. "Isn't she just? She's also dead smart." She strokes a hand over Hedwig's feathers. "I can't believe I actually have her again."

"Well, it's a good thing we're going to Gringotts shortly," Remus states, joining them. "That just about cleaned us out." He pats one of his pockets. "I do have a shrunken cage and some food to start you out with. Anything else will have to be purchased another time."

"Good enough for me." They step back outside and Evelyn holds out a hand to Remus. "The first letter, please." The werewolf takes said letter out of another pocket and lets her take it. Though it's been a few years since she's had to do this, she still manages to attach the letter to Hedwig's leg single handedly. "Now my darling girl, this is a bit short for your maiden flight, but it is very much important. Take this to Gringotts just down the way and wait for a reply before returning. Can you do that for me, clever girl?" Hedwig gives herself a shake before launching up into the air. Evelyn watches her go until she disappears around the corner. "And now we wait."

"And now we wait," Remus seconds. "Would you like to walk around while we do, Captain?"

Steve shoots him an exasperated expression. "You _can_ call me Steve. And wouldn't walking around make it hard for the owl to find us again?'

"Hedwig's a post owl. She can find me pretty much anywhere." Evelyn sucks in a sharp breath. "And now that I think about it, I think she's rather attuned to my magic in particular."

Remus claps her on the shoulder. "That wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. I always thought she was a remarkably smart bird, all things considered."

"Well, let's just wander, shall we?" Evelyn suggests, having noticed the looks they were getting for just standing in place. "Knowing the goblins, they should be rather prompt, so I don't believe we'll be waiting for too long, but we're starting to attract attention."

Remus jerks, realizing that she's right. "Yes, let's."

The last thing they need right now is for someone to somehow recognize Evelyn and have all of Wizarding Britain descend upon their heads. So they wander, stopping every once in a while to glance at what's being displayed in the various shop windows. Evelyn stares longing at the Nimbus 2000 in Quality Quidditch Supplies' window and yet still wishes for her Firebolt at the same time. Both had been exceptional brooms in their own way. Remus keeps up a quiet yet informative running commentary about their surroundings for Steve, but Evelyn just lets it wash over. She does occasionally glance skywards just to keep watch.

In the end, her estimates on how long they'll be waiting end up being correct, as Hedwig wings her way back in a very brief amount of time. Evelyn showers her with praise before taking the offered letter.

Well, piece of parchment really, given how bloody brief it is compared to their slightly wordy warning that they'd sent. Evelyn had wanted to be thorough, though.

It is blunt as goblins always tend to be, even in only three words.

_We are prepared._

"We're good to go," she informs her companions.

"Then let's not keep them waiting."

* * *

They're met at the door and immediately taken back to Barchoke's office. He has three chairs waiting for them, along with a owl perch that Hedwig immediately makes for as Evelyn hadn't wanted to leave her outside with nowhere to send her to.

"**Wealth and honor to you, Account Manager Barchoke,**" Evelyn greets as Remus and Steve settle into the two side chairs, leaving the middle one free for her. She knows what they're doing, what they're wordlessly implying, and the only reason she doesn't raise a stink about it is because goblins are _very_ protective of their females, so the display will work in their favor. "**My thanks for agreeing to see us on such short notice.**"

"**Honor and glory to you, Warrior Potter,**" her account manager returns. "**I presume you wish to again have our needed discussion in English?**"

"**It would be greatly appreciated, as Captain Rogers does not know your language anymore than my cousin did.**"

"I do find it strange that you would bring a Muggle man into the bank who is of no relation to you," Barchoke comments, slipping seamlessly back into English. "I assume there is a reason for this?"

Evelyn shrugs her shoulders in a seemingly careless manner. "We have multiple errands to run, and I thought it rude to leave him in Muggle London simply because he doesn't have magic. He did know of the Magical World long before I dragged him here, if that's what you're worried about."

Barchoke raises an eyebrow. "Your flaunting of the Statute of Secrecy is not my concern. I do see that you've managed to contact Remus Lupin all on your own. However, I am not sure if you've been made aware that Sirius Black was broken out of Azkaban about a week after we last spoke."

"I'm very much aware of that particular," she states a touch dryly. "It was done for me, although I didn't tell the idiots to. I had every intention of pursuing that via legal means once I was of age to take up my Ladyship titles, but _some_ people decided to take matters into their own hands. We'll be announcing this come my birthday, but Heir Sirius Orion of House Black will be under the protection of House Potter _and_ House Odin until such time that the British Ministry for Magic guarantees him the fair trial he should've received ten years ago."

Barchoke exhales slowly. "So King Ragnok did not lie when he mentioned you catching the eye of a Prince of Asgard."

Now it's Evelyn's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You actually thought your king _lied_ to you?" If a wizard ever dared to suggest such a thing, they'd be dead before they could blink. That's not even getting into how bloody rare it is for a wizard or witch to even lay eyes on said goblin king.

She's treated with the sight of an affronted goblin. "I did no such thing! I simply thought he might've misheard, is all."

No, he actually thought King Ragnok had lied. Evelyn doesn't really blame him. She threw a lot of shit their way that day. Still, she's not going to drag this out over something so trivial. "Of course. It was a trying day for everyone. However, Sirius is part of why we're here." She turns to her right. "Remus?"

The werewolf takes out Sirius' statement and places it on Barchoke's desk. Her account manager eyeballs them both, but dutifully reads it over. Upon completing it, he lets out a gusty sigh. "Only you, Warrior Potter, only you."

She grins ruefully back at him. "Potter Luck is unfortunately alive and well within me." To her left, Steve snorts before hurriedly composing himself. "I trust Gringotts can make that happen?"

Barchoke scoffs. "Of course. Given the complete lack of a trial and thus the lack of criminal charges, Heir Black is well within his rights as your godfather to authorize your request." He slips out from behind his desk and walks over to one of the bookshelves in the room. The binder he pulls down is rather on the small side, but Evelyn knows the wonders of magic and also recognizes it from before. "Here is all the information you will need, Retainer Lupin." Barchoke plops it in Remus' lap before returning to his desk. "Gringotts has another self updating copy that will remain here. Should you have any questions, I am available by owl."

Remus inclines his head. "My thanks." Evelyn makes a mental note to see if she can teach him Gobbledegook, along with some of their customs if only to make sure things continue running as smoothly as possible between House Potter and Gringotts Bank. She doesn't believe he'll intentionally offer insult, but better safe than sorry.

"On the subject of House Black," Barchoke continues, producing a letter of his own, "this is something I was instructed to give to you, Heiress Black, when next you arrived. Account Manager Bogrod was most insistent."

Evelyn blinks, stumped and startled and just a little worried at both why and _how_ House Black is contacting her, especially with her being called _Heiress Black_. Her being Sirius' heir is not yet a well known fact. It's not like they should even know Sirius is with her. With slightly shaky fingers, she opens it.

_Heiress Evelyn Rosalie of House Potter and House Black,_

_This mandate is to inform you of the House Meeting that is being called on the 21st of July in the year 1991 at Black Manor. Attendance is mandatory for Heir Apparent Sirius Orion of House Black and his named Heiress. This letter will serve as a single use Portkey that will deliver the user to the parlor in Black Manor at 10:00am sharp. Failure to comply will result in disownment._

_Toujours Pur_

_Lord Arcturus Nigel of House Black_

Fucking shite, this is the last thing they need.

"When did you receive this?" she bites out around clenched teeth. She will not snap at the messenger, no matter how much quick relief it might give her.

Barchoke gives her a searching look. "A week after Heir Black was broken out of prison."

Bloody buggering _fuck_.

Evelyn does not like this in the slightest. However, she knows she won't get the answers she wants from Barchoke. Instead, she's going to have to wait four days for this blasted meeting and demand answers then. Also get Sirius from Asgard, because the last thing he needs right now is actual disownment.

"Evie?"

She waves off Remus's prodding. "_Not now._" She hates the sharp tone she uses, but her temper has been stoked and will take a while to die back down. She hopes he'll forgive her roughness later. "My thanks, Account Manager Barchoke, for the delivery of this letter. Now, there are two other things I'd like to discuss before we finish for the day. The first is since my cousin Dudley is due to start Hogwarts with me come fall, I would appreciate Gringotts' assistance in procuring the paperwork necessary to make him a ward of House Potter. Regardless, I will be covering all seven years of his Hogwarts expenses. The second is the bank's policy on international Portkeys to America."

* * *

Matthew Granger, former Captain of Her Majesty's Army, has abandoned all pretenses of eating to stare at the letter in his hand. It had, surprisingly enough, arrived with the morning paper when their mail usually gets delivered later in the day. The wax seal had immediately garnered his attention, leading him to believe that it was a relatively important letter. The crest on it, though, that he hadn't recognized. Regardless, he'd thought to scan it while finishing up his breakfast, but the contents have him speechless for all that he hasn't been talking to anyone.

_Dear Captain and Mrs. Granger,_

_ The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter bids you good day and hopes that this letter finds you in good health. It has come to our attention that your daughter, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, is due to begin attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry come September 1. Our Heiress Apparent, Miss Evelyn Rosalie Potter, is of a similar age and has expressed an interest in meeting with Miss Granger. Her mother came from a similar situation, being the first witch in her family, and does not wish the same troubles that befell her mother to befall your daughter. If this idea is agreeable to you and yours, House Potter would be more than willing to help you better understand the world your daughter is about to become a part of._

_ Enclosed is an envelope that you may use to return your penned reply. Should you reply in negative, know that there will be no perceived slight and our Heiress will not make your daughter feel uncomfortable in any way come the actual school year. Should you reply in positive to such a meeting, we would have you brought to the Crowne Plaza in London on July 31 so the girls may meet before venturing into Diagon Alley. A car would arrive at 9:00am to pick you up and make it to London proper by 10:30am. Any and all expenses for the day would be covered by House Potter, as we only have a general idea of how long explanations may take. Please reply within the next few days, or we will take your silence as a sign that you do not wish to meet and will act accordingly._

_Sincerely,_

_Remus John Lupin_

_Head Retainer to House Potter_

"Matt dear, is everything alright?"

Matt jerks himself out of the daze he'd fallen into to find Hermione and his wife Helen both looking at him worriedly. He self-consciously clears his throat before handing the letter off to Helen. "I think you'll want to take a glance at this, love," he says by way of explanation.

Helen gives him a wondering look, but dutifully reads the letter. Her eyes grow larger the further she reads, and Matt assumes that he had sported a similar expression.

"Daddy?" Hermione prods like the inquisitive girl that she's always been. "Is everything alright?"

He sighs, but reaches out to ruffle her hair. It earns him the stink eye he expects nowadays. "Yeah, pumpkin, everything's alright. I just got a surprising letter, is all."

The thick parchment the letter's written on rustles slightly as Helen lays it down on their kitchen table. "Well then." She continues to stare at it for a moment more before looking back up. "Do you trust this?"

"Seems a bit much to be a prank, if you ask me. Not to mention, there's _that_."

Matt knows that Helen will catch his meaning. The letter specifically mentions both Hogwarts and another girl being the first witch in her family. And as much as Matt might hate to admit it, he has been worried about sending his little girl off into a world he knows next to nothing about. The mere idea of having someone who's been through the same thing Hermione will shortly be experiencing and is also willing to help eases his heartache somewhat.

Now it's Helen's turn to sigh. "Very well." She slides the letter over to Hermione, who's surprisingly been very patient even though Matt knows she must be bursting with questions. "What do you think of this, darling?"

Hermione devours the letter much quicker than he or Helen did, but then again she's always been a fast reader. "Evelyn _Potter_ wants to get to know me?" she squeaks. _Squeaks_. She also flushes pink, further surprising Matt. He can't recall the last time Hermione was embarrassed about anything. Frustrated, yes. Flustered, though? Not so much.

"You know Miss Potter, darling?" Helen inquires while Matt desperately tries to think of when the two girls might have crossed paths before. He keeps coming up blank.

Their daughter makes an aggravated noise in the back of her throat. "_This_ is why I wanted you to read some of those books I got in Diagon Alley! Evelyn Potter is mentioned in at least three of them! She somehow managed to defeat a Dark Lord when she was just a baby! All the books call her the Girl-Who-Lived for surviving a curse no one else has survived before!"

Matt is immediately taken aback. That sounds rather far fetched to him. The idea of a baby defeating a so-called Dark Lord. Then again, he doesn't really know what's necessary for someone to be considered a Dark Lord, but he's also fairly certain that he doesn't _want_ to know. In any event, his daughter has managed to work herself up into a tizzy at the idea of this Evelyn Potter wanting to meet her.

"Hermione, breathe," Helen gently but firmly scolds. She waits for Hermione to obey before continuing. "Now, why don't you go get these books of yours and we can look over them together before making a decision?"

As Hermione goes thundering up the stairs to grab her books, Matt stands to get himself a writing utensil to pen out his reply. All things considered, he can't see any feasible reason that he'll end up saying no to this meeting, but it'd probably still be best to wait until his wife okays it. Just to be safe.

* * *

Comments make me happy!


	18. Chapter 18

Not quite as long as I'd been hoping, but hey, it's a chapter!

However, parts of this took even me by surprise as I was writing it! Hope you like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 18: Ironman Inbound**

Edwin Jarvis has faithfully served the Stark family since World War Two. He has stood by Master Stark in his hunt for his long lost friend with Miss Carter, and seen how it's weighed on the both of them with every failure the search produces. He's watched as Master Stark wooed the now Mistress Stark, back then just Miss Carbonell, and how it healed his battered heart if only a bit. He remembers the utter joy in both Master Stark and Mistress Stark's eyes when they first held their son. He's been delighted to watch Master Anthony grow up, to see his brilliant mind blossom and expand from a very young age.

He's, unfortunately, also had to watch as Master Stark floundered at how to properly connect with his young son. Master Stark knows machines, how they tick and how to make them _better_. Master Stark knows people, in the sense that he can charm a room to his advantage whether it be a board meeting or a gala or a fundraiser. Master Stark tries to use these skills when interacting with Master Anthony.

Understandably, it does not go well.

While Master Anthony might be able to work with machines just as well as his father, perhaps in some ways even better, he was just a child for all his frightfully amazing intelligence. He needed a proud father, not a stern and demanding boss. Thus a distance builds between the two of them, a barrier that neither is willing to breach and attempt to mend.

And now, with Master Anthony grown and considered an adult fully in the eyes of the law, Edwin wonders if there will ever be a reconciliation between father and son. Both are stubborn to the core, and he fears it will take an external influence to start them down the road to a better relationship. However, not many people can go toe to toe with a Stark man and not be intimidated. It's part of what he admires most about Mistress Stark, how she's stuck with both of her idiots through all of this nonsense, loving them as well she can. It's also why he stays, because Master Stark values that in him as well, to say nothing of the fact that he loves Master Anthony as if he were his own. It's never bothered him that he and Ana ended up unable to have children of their own, given how involved they were with Master Anthony as he grew.

With a sigh, Edwin considers the rest of his day.

Master Stark has taken Mistress Stark out for a spin, leaving Master Anthony at home with him and Ana. His wife, as far as he's aware, is putzing away in the kitchen, and Master Anthony holed up in his room, doing heavens knows what. Edwin has given up on trying to truly understand whatever that boy does nowadays, instead just supporting him whenever and however he's able to. Nothing more to the day besides making sure everyone eats, and that's more Ana's job than his.

Therefore, when the front door chimes unexpectedly, Edwin gives himself a moment to ponder if he actually heard it. They aren't expecting any visitors, as far as he's aware, and the ones that do come over regularly have a key, so the door chime isn't necessary. When the chime echoes through the house again, Edwin finally starts making his way over to answer the door. A quick glance outside shows a moderately fanciful convertible with the top down, and he wonders again who exactly is calling before opening the front door just enough to see who is on their doorstep.

It's a man and a woman.

The man has a head of windswept blond hair, wears blue jeans that hug his legs in a way that even a straight man like Edwin can appreciate and a crisp button up short sleeve shirt that _clings_. He has a bag slung over a shoulder, and he stands with the careful ease of a soldier for all that he wears no colors now. He looks familiar in an average sort of way for all that he is most definitely _not_ average. It itches at something in the back of his mind, but he dismisses it for the time being.

The woman though. Oh the woman is a _vision_. Her hair Edwin would almost describe as semi-tamed fire, as it's only partially contained by a braid, with bright green eyes that seem to stare into his very soul. She's wearing well fitted blue jeans same as her companion with a light purple blouse that shows off her curves tastefully. She holds herself similarly to her companion, though more coiled and ready to spring rather than hinting at military connections. A rough childhood, then.

"May I help you?" he inquires, slipping outside and shutting the door behind him as he goes. The click of the lock is a comfort, as is the weight of the key in his pocket.

Both blink at him as if in surprise.

"You're British?"

Now it's Edwin's turn for surprise. He hadn't been expecting to hear the twang of his birth country from the woman's lips anymore than she'd obviously expected it from him. Of course, he doesn't let that deter him.

"I am indeed. However, you have obviously come here for a reason, Miss. Not just anyone comes to Stark Manor."

She clears her throat before offering him her hand. "Right, of course. I'm Rosalie Evans and I'm here to see Tony Stark about something."

Edwin slowly raises an eyebrow at her even as he takes her hand and shakes once before letting go. One doesn't simply come to talk with any Stark about something, and especially not Master Anthony. The fact that she's female is a point against her, for all that she might end up being a delightful woman to get to know. "Are you now?"

Her face scrunches up. "I'm not a jittered girlfriend, if that's what you're worried about. I've been happily married for four years now, and have absolutely no intentions of ever looking elsewhere."

"Your husband is a bit possessive," the man drawls, lips quirking up into a smirk when the woman throws an exasperated expression at him. "He's getting better, though."

"Land a man on his arse enough times, and he finally starts to take a hint," she deadpans for all that her eyes twinkle with amusement. "In any event, you can rest assured that I am _not_ here to try and lay claim to the Stark fortune in any way, shape, or form. I _am_ a friend, for all that Tony probably won't remember me." She smiles ruefully, but Edwin can see a sadness in her. In both of them.

Unless they're master liars, both of them consider themselves Master Anthony's friends and they miss him. Unfortunately, the only friend that Master Anthony ever talks of is James Rhodes, whom Master Anthony affectionately calls Rhodey, and Edwin knows that both of Master Anthony's parents would've been thrilled had their son made more than just the one friend when he'd gone off to MIT. "You understand, of course, that I cannot simply take you at your word? That many people have claimed similarly as you only to try and trick us in some way."

Rosalie gifts him with a bitter and jagged smile. "I have a better understanding of that particular issue than you might imagine, but I do applaud your caution. Stars know that Tony needs someone like that in his corner." She huffs out a sigh. "However, I only need five minutes at most with Tony to see if what I'm looking for is there. Should I not find it, we will leave immediately if that will make you feel better."

He actually believes her.

About both things.

There _is_ an understanding in her eyes, one that has been growing in Master Anthony's ever since he realized that people will come to him just to be able to use him. This woman knows what it means to be sought out simply as a means to an end. And it's because of _that_ that Edwin believes her promise. She apparently knows the trials of fame, for all that he himself hasn't heard of her, and thus won't inflict herself on Master Anthony anymore than she must.

"Your word?" he requests, one last layer of protection by playing to her honor.

They both know what he's doing, but she dips her head and intones, "My word."

Something shivers down Edwin's spine, but he turns to unlock the front door and let them into the manor. "If you will follow me?" They both obediently fall into step behind him, and he leads them towards one of the closer sitting rooms. His wife meets them when they're halfway there, and she says nothing even as an eyebrow rises up. "Ana, darling, would you be so kind as to fetch some refreshments for our guests?" The eyebrow goes even higher. "They're here to see Master Anthony briefly."

Her gaze cuts to them, the steady steel of a mother whose child might be being threatened. "Indeed?"

"We are." Rosalie offers nothing more, and there's nothing more Edwin can offer either. He's a bit chagrin to realize that particular fact. However, there's not much he can do besides ushering them back out and he already gave _his_ word that he'd let them see Master Anthony if only for a bit.

Ana huffs, but turns on her heel and goes back to the kitchen.

"Another protector, huh," Rosalie murmurs, sounding happy of all things. A quick glance in her direction sees a look of satisfaction on her face.

"My wife and I love Master Anthony as if he were our own," Edwin simply says. When they reach the sitting room, he gestures for them to precede him in. "Please make yourself comfortable. Ana will be out with drinks shortly and I will go fetch Master Anthony."

Rosalie settles herself on one of the couches while her companion remains standing behind her. "Thank you," she returns. "You cannot even begin to imagine how much this means to me."

Unable to come up with a reply to such heartfelt thanks, Edwin just nods before he leaves them there and heads upstairs. Master Anthony must be in the thick of things, given the volume of the music blasting from his room. Edwin sighs, already dreading having to interrupt, but he'd rather just get this visit over with. He knocks twice for all that he knows it won't be heard before opening the door.

Master Anthony is indeed fully engrossed in a project, parts strewn all over his room in an order that will only make sense to him. He's fiddling with whatever he has in his hand with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth. Rather than disturbing him by attempting to catch his attention, Edwin simply walks over to the boombox blaring music and turns it down. That's the agreement the two of them came up with after one too many close calls when Edwin startled him mid project.

It takes a bit, but Master Anthony does finally notice that his music is gone. He blinks rapidly and lifts his head to squint at Edwin. The screwdriver drops into a waiting hand. "Jarvis? Thought we didn't have anything planned for today."

"We have guests, sir," Edwin explains.

He blinks again. "Guests?"

Understandable. The Starks do not simply get _guests_ off the streets.

"Guests who have specifically requested five minutes of your time. A Mrs Rosalie Evans." He's startled to realize that he never even thought to ask the man for his name. It just slipped his mind. Well, should they end up staying, he can get it then.

"Never heard of her," Master Anthony deadpans.

"Neither have I," Edwin agrees, "but she did have an honesty about her that led me to believe she's had similar experiences with money and fame as you. She promised only five minutes."

Master Anthony briefly pulls a disgusted face, grumbling something under his breath that Edwin doesn't catch but no doubt isn't polite. Then he gets a contemplative look on his face. "You trust her?"

"I do." Insofar as that she means Master Anthony no immediate harm and will stay true to her word.

Master Anthony sighs dramatically. "What the hell, then." He gets to his feet, nimbly stepping over the mess of his unfinished project to join Edwin at the door. "Let's go see what could possibly take _just five minutes_." The disdain in his voice makes Edwin despair for all that it's usually deserved. He just hopes this time it will be different.

Back down in the sitting room, Ana has brought out lemonade that only Rosalie has a glass of. His wife is sitting primly on another sofa, watching both of them with a wary eye. All three heads turn in their direction when he and Master Anthony step into the room.

As ever, Master Anthony struts forward as if he hasn't a care in the world. "So, Jarvis says you want to talk with me about something."

Edwin is surprised by both of their guests doing a mild double take, realizing that he never actually introduced himself to either of them, but he doesn't understand why the mentioning of his last name is so startling. However, they both recover fairly quickly.

Rosalie sets her untouched glass of lemonade down and stands up. "I do." She steps out around the coffee table and meets him halfway with an offered hand. "Rosalie Evans."

"Tony Stark, but you already—"

Master Anthony drops like a stone, only Rosalie's tight grip on his hand keeping him from bashing his head on the floor. She inelegantly follows him down, cradling him to her chest even as Edwin and Ana and her companion converge on her.

"Well shit, I didn't expect _that_," she mutters.

"_What did you do?_" Edwin demands, making to snatch Master Anthony away from her only for her companion to block both his and Ana's paths. "Sir, I insist that you move this _instant_."

"Eve?" the man inquires, not budging an inch.

"Like I'm supposed to have _any_ idea what's happening two seconds later," she growls, shifting to be able to run a hand tenderly through Master Anthony's fringe. "I'd say it was because he was awake, but Sirius was too, and _he_ didn't faint." She huffs out an aggravated sigh. "Can you help me get him to the couch? I don't want him to wake up sprawled all over the floor."

"He's woken up in odder places," her companion muses, but he turns on a dime to scoop Master Anthony up off the floor and out of Rosalie's arms as if he weighed nothing before gently laying him down on the couch Rosalie had just been sitting on.

"He's going to wake up thinking he just blew up the suit and that I stupidly saved his sorry arse," Rosalie snarls. "The floor is _not_ where I want him to come to."

The man jerks back as if burned. "He blew up—"

"Steve, he just watched you _die_ and we were losing already."

His expression is one of devastation.

"Who _are_ you people?" Edwin demands, nerves shot and temper rising, "and what did you do to Master Anthony?"

"This would be _so_ much easier if this idiot hadn't fainted on us," Rosalie grumbles before tossing her head back. Her bearing changes to one used to being in charge and being obeyed. It's subtle, but all it does is make Edwin even more worried because she obviously has no intention of releasing Master Anthony anytime soon. "I apologize. I do promise you that I mean Tony no harm."

"You _still_ haven't answered my questions."

"You say your name is Evans," Ana interjects suddenly.

Something sparks in Rosalie's eyes as she shifts her gaze from Edwin to his wife. "I am an Evans," she replies with steel in her voice as if daring Ana to doubt her. "Why?"

His wife inhales shakily. He can't ever remember her being so frightened before. "When Edwin saved me from Nazis in Hungary, he saved me from more than just them. He also saved me from Grindelwald sympathizers."

Rosalie inhales sharply for all that name means nothing to Edwin. "Squib?"

The word again means nothing to Edwin, but Ana dips her head in agreement. "I have kept tabs on that world as much as I've been capable, wanting to be able to warn my family should the need ever arise. However, England has been in an uproar this last month. About a missing little girl whose mother was the former Lily Evans." Her hands are fists at her side even as they tremble. "Tell me, Evans, how did my Tony get mixed up in _that_ world?"

Something like respect flickers across Rosalie's face, and she opens her mouth like she's going to reply. However, Tony suddenly gasping and jolting upright derails _that_ particular conversation.

* * *

Tony Stark comes to with fire in his veins and an ache in his heart.

This isn't supposed to happen.

This is very much _not_ supposed to happen.

He'd just been forced to see Steve get cut down without being able to get him.

He'd just had to listen to Steve's last gasping, gurgling breath.

He'd just had to watch Steve _die_.

So he'd made the calculations. He'd considered the odds. And he'd chosen to sacrifice himself to save the others (save the ones he still could and finally join the ones he hadn't). Using the power of the arc reactor in his chest and his suit, he'd be able to take out most of the forces on Nidavelir with him.

He'd warned them.

And then.

And then there was only fire and heat and oblivion.

He was supposed to've _died_, but apparently he can't even do that right.

He jerks upright, gasping for air when all he really wants to do is sob.

"Tony!"

The world, which had been a blur before, comes into focus around Evelyn's face.

She immediately slips into the litany that usually FRIDAY (he wonders why it isn't her and worries that he's lost another child for some unknown reason) performs whenever he wakes from a coma or any extended period of unintentional sleep (which is almost always) to ground him in the here and now. "It's 11:26 am. We are in Stark Manor just outside of New York City. It's sunny outside and windy."

He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, not wanting to see a world without Steve (stupid fucking self-sacrificing Steve who Tony hadn't gotten up the courage to talk to because the entire situation had been fucked ten ways to Sunday and he's always been a coward when it comes to relationships of any kind) in it. "Why the _fuck_ did you save me?" he snarls, not bothering to get into why they're at the manor instead of the tower when all he cares about is the fact that he's fucking _alive_. "Why, Eve, _why_?"

"I didn't," she states flatly.

"You didn't _what_?"

"I didn't save you, Tony. I couldn't have even I'd wanted to."

"Well, I'm obviously _alive_ when I—"

"Soul Magic."

Well shit.

Only once did they ever talk of what could be done should they truly fail. Only once did Loki ever mention Soul Magic and the price he'd have to pay to use it (and though neither of them said it, Tony had gotten the impression that they weren't sure any of this could ever be fixed).

So Soul Magic had happened.

Fucking hell.

He lowers his hands glare blearily at her.

"How long?" he asks.

"Two years after we lost you," she states solemnly, belaying the haunted look in her eyes. She's been pushed to the brink, shattering over and over and _over_ again only to continue to live. Sometimes, that's the hardest thing to live with. "I was hit with a death spell and lasted all of a week despite Loki's best attempts to keep me alive. We were all that was left, having lost Nat and Clint a year prior."

"Rhodey?" He can't bear to ask after the others just yet, but Rhodey's been at his back for more years than he hasn't.

Evelyn bows her head. "We didn't having anything to fucking _bury_, Tony. Nidavelir collapsed shortly after you died, and even if it hadn't, you _blew yourself up_. You leveled the mountains we were fighting on, by the way, so at least you went out with a _bang_." She drags a hand down her face. "Rhodey drank himself into a stupor for about a month with Sam not far behind him before Nat finally had enough. Anything more that you want to know will have to wait, because I am _not_ going over all the gory details by myself."

"By yourself?" Tony repeats, not understanding that but understanding not wanting to talk about what happened (who's he kidding, he ran from what happened to him for all that he embraced what it brought him).

The smile she gives him, for all that her eyes are wet with tears, is achingly joyful. "Loki remembers, as does Thor and—"

"_Tony_."

He nearly falls off the couch twisting towards that voice. His breath catches harshly in the back of his throat at the sight of the man stumbling towards him, healthy, whole, and blessedly alive.

"_Steve_?"

* * *

Comments make me happy!


	19. Chapter 19

So, I had every intention of leaving just Evelyn and Loki as the sole characters/couple this fic calls out, given that I can't tag everyone and everything here on fanfiction like I can on A03. However, I've come to the realization that there will be people who won't like some of the endgame couples I have in mind and that they deserve to know that they're coming instead of not. So with that in mind, yes, this fic is heading towards a Steve/Tony relationship on top of others of a similar ilk. I realize that this might cost me some readers at this point in the game, and I'm okay with that. I went into this story with that endgame already in mind but haven't properly advertised it. To those of you who enjoy a good Steve/Tony relationship, I hope I do this justice in the long run. To those of you who don't, I don't begrudge you this fact. I have read many a fic with Tony paired with just about everyone under the Marvel sun and have thoroughly enjoyed every single one. I only ask that everyone be polite.

On another note, again with not being able to tag everything that I'd like, I feel I should just put out there that it's really at Age of Ultron that this fic starts veering hard in AU status for the Marvel timeline. Take anything that follows after with a grain of salt. I might end up using it, I might not. Obviously the Harry Potter timeline went wonky right when Evelyn was born, given that she's a girl. You'll be getting snippets of the differences as the story progresses, but do know that major events played out relatively the same way each year.

Now that I've gotten all of that out of the way, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 19: Magic is a thing**

There's a ringing in Steve's ears. A ringing and a hollowness that he's only really felt once before. Only this time he isn't hanging off a train in the snowy Alps screaming for Bucky while he falls far beyond his reach. No, now he's in Stark Manor being forced to watch as Tony Stark snarls at Evelyn for supposedly _saving_ him of all things. As if continuing to live is too much for him to bear now.

He finds himself anchored in place for all that he's floundering inside. He wants to move, to take Tony and _shake_ him for even daring to think that the world would ever be a better place without him or just hold him close to shield him from everything and everyone. Maybe both. Probably both. Shake him and then never let him go. However, he can't _move_.

It isn't until Evelyn turns to look at him with a watery smile that Steve finds himself able to stumble forward with Tony's name falling roughly off his lips. The genius jerks around at the sound, a raspy "_Steve_," coming from his own mouth as he all but throws himself at Steve. Reflexes born from fighting and living side by side for six years are what save Tony from face planting on the ground. And though Tony's years younger than Steve's ever seen him before, none of the years of hardship he's experienced etched physically into his face anymore, it's still a relief to be able to hold the man again when he'd known he wouldn't ever get the chance to when he'd hit his knees on Nidavelir.

"You stupid _idiot_," he chokes out while crushing Tony close, unable at the moment to come up with the words for the whirlwind of emotions rattling around in his chest. He doesn't particularly care right now, they have all the time in the world now thanks to Evelyn.

"Excuse me?" Tony immediately starts wiggling to draw back and give him an indignant expression. "Who exactly got himself so far separated from everyone that we couldn't do _anything_? Cause that definitely wasn't me, Capsicle."

"You were second in command on the field, Iron Man," Steve retorts. "You were—"

Tony cuts him off. "I only agreed to that with _you_ in charge, Cap."

"_Tony_—"

"No, you don't seem to understand something Steve. Nat's review of me before New York was pretty much spot on, much as I am _loath_ to admit it and the only reason I am admitting it is because she's not here to gloat, so just shut up and listen to me. I was on a path of self destruction of my own making, even with Pepper doing her damndest to keep me alive and healthy. I was straddling the line of narcissism. I might've somewhat cared about the people under me and around me, but at the time it was only because I _had_ to. Not because I wanted to. Not really. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy were the _only_ fucking exceptions and even then I was a crap friend on a good day. And as you found out rather quickly when we first met, I was absolute _shit_ at playing nice with others. It took New York to completely open my eyes, to finish what Afghanistan started. It took working with you and the rest of our ridiculous gaggle of friends for me to even begin to understand the notion of working together with other people. To actually _work_ with them, not just show off how much better I was than everyone else in the room." He barks out a bitter laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I can't really kid with myself anymore, _you_ were most of the reasoning behind me getting my shit together. The others helped, but you were really the backbone of it all. Because you were so much _better_ than the stories Howard told me."

"_Tony_." Apparently all he's capable of saying right now is the man's name.

"So understand this, you stupid super soldier." Tony jabs a finger into his chest that Steve knows he'll complain over later. "I'd only had you for six years before being forced to watch as your sorry ass was run through with a fucking _sword_ and not be able to do anything. I calculated our odds and they were _shit_. So I made the sacrifice play for everyone else to live. You, sir, crashed a weapons hot plane into the Arctic Ocean as your sacrifice play after you lost Barnes in the Alps. Don't you _dare_ judge me for doing exactly the same as you."

Steve finds he has to close his eyes at the reminder. He had, after all, done exactly what Tony's yelling at him about. And when he'd first met the man, he hadn't trusted him. Hadn't thought that Tony Stark would be able to do the same as him, to make that sacrifice play. And now confronted with the reality of Tony Stark having done exactly that, Steve prays to every deity he can think of that Tony won't ever have to do that again. That the universe won't ever come to such a place that the loss of this ridiculously brilliant man is needed again until Tony is old and grey and wrinkly.

"I passed command over to Eve," Tony continues, his voice quieter for all that there's still steel in it. Like he's still expecting Steve to yell at him. "I waited until everyone else was clear, but I went into that final situation knowing I wasn't going to make it out and I was fine with that."

"I don't like it," Steve says softly, plowing through Tony's upset noise at his words because he isn't finished. "I don't like it anymore than you liked the notion of me crashing the _Valkyrie_ into the Arctic for all that it ended up bringing me to you. However, I'm proud and honored to be able to stand and fight beside a good man like you."

Tony immediately scoffs. "I'm not a good man, Rogers, far from it in fact."

Steve's lips twitch into a small smile. "Well, we'll just have to disagree about that for now." Given that he's got time to work on that, he's content to let it go for the time being. Now definitely isn't the time to start trying to make Tony believe that.

"You both got it all out of your systems, then?" Evelyn drawls, belatedly reminding Steve that they aren't alone. He and Tony jerk apart, and Steve can feel his cheeks flushing. He uncomfortably clears his throat while shooting her a perturbed glare. She just grins cheekily back from where she's perched on the couch. "Right then. Tony, there are a few more facts you need to be made aware of. Specifically the current year."

Tony bounces back and forth from foot to foot. "Yeah, I'd been wondering about that. Early 2000's? I know it's before '09 because my chest is normal." He freezes, sucking in a deep breath as he eyes abruptly go wide. "JAR—"

Evelyn interrupts him. "Stark, it's July 18th, 1991."

Tony makes a wheezing noise she'd punched him in the gut.

Steve finds himself making an equally pained noise in the back of his throat. Of course the first being Tony would try and check in with would be his first AI. And while Steve might've only known JARVIS for two years, there'd been no disguising how much Tony had cared.

"That can't be right," the genius says hoarsely. "You're too old."

A rueful smile spreads across Evelyn's lips. "Only this once am I gonna let you get away with that accusation about my age." She taps the pendant in the hollow of her throat. "You're forgetting, Stark, that I have magic at my disposal."

He scowls at her. "Great, thanks, that tells me _so_ much."

Evelyn rolls her eyes. "You'll get a full explanation in a bit, Tony, so don't get your knickers in a twist. Besides, there are some people who've been a bit worried over you ever since you _fainted_ when we shook hands a few minutes ago." She tips her head to the side, and again Steve remembers that they aren't alone. Only now it's like a veil is being lifted from his mind and suddenly he can see Ana and Edwin again. They're staring, gazes darting between him and Tony and occasionally Evelyn in rapid succession.

"Tony?" Ana finally takes a hesitant step forward with a hand stretched out.

The wounded groan dragged out of Tony is the only warning Steve gets before his knees buckle on him. He scrambles to catch him as he drops for the second time today. Evelyn barks out a curse as she leaps over the coffee table between them and meets them halfway to the floor.

"Stars preserve me, I will laugh at you for _years_ if you faint on us again, Stark," she warns for all that her hands are tender.

"_Are they real_?" Tony all but snarls, his grip on Steve's arm so tight that had he been any other man, Steve knows he'd have bruises for weeks. He doesn't blame Tony, having had similar thoughts when he'd first discovered the truth about Bucky.

Evelyn immediately takes the hand not on Steve's arm with one of her own. "As if I'd _ever_ do that to you," she returns just as fiercely, her voice cracking momentarily with aching grief, and Steve's abruptly reminded that for all that Tony is getting back the family that raised him, Evelyn still won't ever be able to see her parents alive.

Tony makes another wounded noise, but does lift his head to look at Ana and Edwin with tear filled eyes. "I—" The rest of his sentence is choked off.

Evelyn rolls her eyes for all that they're as shiny as Tony's and hauls the man to his feet with her as she stands up. He sputters indignantly, but she just shoves him in Ana and Edwin's direction. "Just hug them, Stark."

Tony needs no further encouragement, surprisingly enough, and all but falls into their waiting arms. Steve's not entirely sure who's gripping who harder, but all three are crying.

"This will complicate things," he says softly to Evelyn, not wanting to disturb the reunion. However, the more people who are aware they're from the future in a sense, the more dangerous things will become for them. Well, more dangerous than they already are.

"I won't take this from Tony for the world," she returns just as quietly, "but I will admit that it helps that Ana turned out to be a squib." Her lips quirk into a rueful smile. "Or whatever more polite term Hermione ends up coming up with instead. She'd already been gearing up to shove the term 'first generation' down all the purebloods' throats as opposed to 'muggleborn' or even 'mundaneborn', given certain people enjoy twisting those two into '_mudblood_'. Much more polite, in both of our opinions, because while we both came to appreciate their culture and traditions, that doesn't mean those just entering the Wizarding World don't deserve a culture and traditions of their own. It was still a work in progress when Hela snatched me away, so I never got to see just how far she'd managed to get."

"_Eve_." He knows what she's doing, and it's semi working, but that doesn't mean they can let themselves be distracted from the matter at hand.

She huffs, scowling at him. "Well, I can't exactly do for Tony what I did for you, Captain, given that he's not a literal man out of time like you are, to say nothing of the fact that it's only temporary." He shudders briefly just thinking about that. It hadn't been pleasant getting that particular spell cast on him, one that would make people who haven't met him before dismiss him as nonimportant unless properly introduced. "We'll figure something out. And my husband is working on something to protect your minds, because as stubborn as you non-magicals are, you're also unfortunately well aware that there are magicals who view anyone without magic as little more than cattle and they'd be more than willing to just tear your future knowledge right out of your head with little regard for the mess they'd leave in their wake."

Now it's his turn to scowl at her. "I could've gone the rest of the day without that in mind."

She just arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, I thought we were discussing how things are complicated?"

He scrubs wearily at his face. "Not in that much detail we weren't."

"Well excuse me, _I_ was just trying to pass time, but _you're_ the one who decided we needed to focus on unpleasant things."

"Mrs Evans?"

Despite knowing that Evelyn used her mother's maiden name today, it still takes Steve a moment to realize she's being spoken to. Then he turns with her to look back towards Tony, who's wrapped up in Edwin and Ana's arms. His cheeks are flushed pink, but he also looks more content that Steve can ever remember seeing him before.

Tony does snort in amusement when they're facing him again. "Going by that name now?"

Evelyn shoots him an unimpressed look. "I've just as much claim to the Evans name as I do my father's, Stark, so don't you even start with me. Besides, my father's name is more likely to draw unwanted attention at the moment." She blows a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Especially considering the uproar going on in England right now. Or are you forgetting exactly how famous I am, Tony?"

"Yes," he returns blandly, but Steve can see amusement lurking behind the feinted forgotten knowledge. All of them had gotten a bit of a shock during Sokovia when Evelyn had managed to rally a people none of them had been aware of just by announcing her name and asking for help. It got even worse when Evelyn mentioned in passing the fact that she'd never really traveled all that far from England during her childhood and early adulthood years.

The unimpressed look persists. "You are so lucky I like you." She reaches up again to touch her pendant. "So, you mentioned my being too old for it to actually be 1991 earlier."

He narrows his eyes at her. "And I thought you were going to let that slide."

"I am, but I didn't explain beyond saying that magic was in play." She draws in a deep breath before squaring her shoulders. "Mr and Mrs Jarvis, I apologize for the deception, but Rosalie Evans isn't my birth name. I'm actually Heiress Evelyn Rosalie of House Potter."

Both older adults blink, but it's Ana who speaks. "You are _much_ too old to be the missing Potter Heiress."

With a rueful laugh, Evelyn unclasps her necklace and shrinks down to her child self. Tony and the Jarvis' all inhale sharply at the change. "Not like this I'm not," Evelyn says softly, stowing the necklace away.

"What Dark magic did you delve into, child?" Ana whispers, clutching at Tony who's staring intently at Evelyn as if he's trying to figure something out that's just beyond his grasp.

"None, actually," Evelyn returns calmly, but Steve can see the fine tremor in her hands. "However, this situation is the result of my husband and I being backed into a corner with nothing left to lose, which led to my husband using Soul Magic on me so that we might have a chance to do _better_." She sucks in a shaky breath, and Steve finds himself dropping to a knee so that he can wrap an arm around her shoulders in support. "Of course, as with all things in my life, Potter Luck struck in the midst of everything, so more people remember the undone years than ought to. I'm very sorry for all the chaos this will bring into your lives, but I just wanted my family back." Again her breathing hitches, and she presses back into Steve. He in turn holds her even closer to him. She always seems so in control of any given situation, much like Tony, so it's always jarring at first whenever they admit to weakness in any way for all that said weak moments are cherished because that means they're _trusting_.

"You're supposed to be ten, right?" Tony abruptly cuts in.

Evelyn inclines her head to him. "I turn eleven at the end of the month. Why?"

Even with the room between them, Steve can still see Tony's nostrils flare as he exhales explosively before he gets himself back under control. "Nothing." Steve knows Tony, though. He knows with utter certainty that certain people on the other side of the Atlantic are going to feel the wrath of Tony Stark sometime in the future, because even though Evelyn had mentioned in passing just how bad her childhood was a time or two, knowing is very different from _seeing_ it. And while Tony and Evelyn shit on each other all the time, they're both fiercely protective of anyone they've claimed as _theirs_. Steve despairs for the time when they end up defending someone together. Whatever it is they're up against won't last long, and he wonders just how big the radius for said explosion will be.

Of course, Evelyn knows Tony's habits just as well. "You don't ask questions like that and then just say 'nothing', Stark. What exactly are you planning to do to my aunt and uncle?"

"Nothing," he repeats, gently but firmly tugging himself out of Ana's grip. "I've got absolutely nothing planned."

Evelyn appears not all that impressed with his poor attempt at denial. "Tony, their reputation's already taken a major hit, given that I accidentally blew up their staircase and then absconded with my cousin shortly after that. They thrive on being 'normal', and I rather dashed that to smithereens."

He grins bright and vicious. "You blew up a staircase?" Because of course that's what Tony focuses on, the explosions.

"When my soul settled in this time."

"This is all ridiculous!" Edwin finally sputters indignantly. "Now will someone kindly explain the truth of what is going on?"

Evelyn shoots an incredulous look at Ana. "You didn't tell him?"

"We were unable to have children," Ana whispers, "so it never came up. And I was quite content to leave behind a world that wanted nothing to do with me."

This has Tony spinning to look at her in shock, backing up a few steps as he does. "Wait, wait, wait, wait." He points an accusing finger at the woman. "_You_ know about magic? You've always known?"

"Tony, I _know_ I explained just how much pureblood magicals tend to loathe those without magic," Evelyn interjects, obviously trying to stop Tony from saying something that he'll end up regretting later which Steve appreciates, even though Tony definitely doesn't considering his expression. "Fifty years ago that mindset would've been at a peak because of Grindelwald and his ideals of subjecting all non-magicals, even those born in magical families. Given that those who resisted tended to end up _dead_, her silence probably saved her life." She huffs out a weary sigh, shooting a semi-apologetic look at Ana. "And a silence of that magnitude is rather hard to break once started."

"Ana?" Edwin lays an almost hesitant hand on his wife's arm. She, in turn, covers it with her own trembling hand, entwining their fingers together.

"Edwin my love, I've not been entirely truthful about my past," she begins with a shaky inhale of breath. "Nothing I told you was false, I truly was a Jewish hotel tailor when we first met. However, I was not born a Levitz. I was adopted by them when I was twelve as my birth family wanted nothing to do with me. I was instead born into the prominent family of Miklos, and they are one of the reining magical Houses in Hungary still to this day."

Evelyn lets out a low, impressed whistle. "She's lucky they didn't just kill her," she mumbles under her breath, causing Steve and Tony to look at her sharply. Edwin doesn't, but Steve sees him twitch.

A watery laugh escapes Ana. "I ran away before they could. Papa found me wandering around, half starved, and took me home. He and Mama hadn't been able to have children, so I was something of a blessing in disguise for them. They were a blessing to me as well, as they believed my rambling tales of magic despite not being able to provide a single thing of proof and taught me to overcome the prejudice my birth parents had installed in me. Even after they died, I never once attempted to reconnect with my birth family, too scared of what they might do to me in retaliation for surviving."

"Ana, I don't…_magic_?" Edwin weakly repeats, appearing as though he desperately wishes to believe his wife but struggling to do so.

Ana turns tear-filled eyes to Evelyn. "Heiress Potter, is there _anything_—"

Evelyn bows her head, inhales in deeply, and as she breathes out whispers, "Expecto Patronum." Light gathers in her palms before jumping out and forming the silvery stag she'd used as a messenger so often during the war. It tosses its head and stamps its hooves before bowing to her. "Hi again," she murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke its neck. It bumps its muzzle against her forehead, then raises its head to regally gaze at the dazed Jarvis'.

"Lord Almighty," Edwin breathes in awe.

"That's a Patronus," Ana says hoarsely through the tears silently rolling down her cheeks. "An actual, true Patronus."

"Yeah, it is," Evelyn agrees with a fond smile. "Saved my bum quite a few times." She drops her hand and the stag fades away. "Of course, a more practical demonstration would be that bag." She nods to the bag sitting innocently by the couch where Steve had dropped it earlier and had subsequently left it with all the chaos Tony had caused. "Captain, if you would?"

Deciding it's not worth the hassle to call Evelyn out on her dramatics, Steve retrieves said bag and walks back over to her. "I'm assuming you want me to take my shield out?" he inquires just to make sure. She inclines her head in the positive, so Steve opens the bag and sticks his left hand into it. It takes a moment, but then the charms applied to the bag kick in and his shield smacks into the palm of his hand. He hefts it out, letting the bag fall to the ground and proudly displaying the red, blue, and silver shield to everyone in the room.

There's a beat of silence before recognition slams into Edwin. He gasps, pointing a finger at Steve. "Good Lord, you're Captain Rogers!"

* * *

If anyone's still worried about the elder Starks, please note the date that Evelyn gave

As usual, comments make me happy!


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